


25 Days To Dream(mas)

by winwinnie



Series: The Kpop Countdown to Christmas [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cancer, Christmas, Dancing High, End of the World, Fluff, Gen, Homesickness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Bites BUT NOT REALLY, M/M, Major Character Death in chap 9, Mall elves, Mistletoe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sick Character, Sleepovers, Snow, a bad attempt at humour, car crash, markhyuck as dream's parents, other nct members are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 26,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16762996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winwinnie/pseuds/winwinnie
Summary: An NCT Dream one shot for each day until ChristmasCome and request prompts, ships and ideas![CLOSED]





	1. INTRODUCTION

> Chapter Summary:

WEEK ONE: ANGST

ONE: Three Words (lazy, fat, useless)

TWO: Bruises

THREE: Okay

FOUR: The Last Song

FIVE: A Walk In The Cold

SIX: One By One They Noticed

SEVEN: Inevitability

EIGHT: Goodbye

WEEK TWO: FLUFF

ONE: Young For a Day

TWO: Watercolour Sky

THREE: Sweet As Frosting

FOUR: Can't Help but Smile

FIVE: Vacuum Cleaner Kisses

SIX: Home

SEVEN: Caramel Popcorn and Feather Duvets

WEEK THREE: CHRISTMAS

ONE: Their First Christmas

TWO: White

THREE: Wrapping Paper

FOUR: The Forever Watching

FIVE: The Life of a Poor College Student at Christmas

SIX: Homesick

SEVEN: Mistletoe White Lies

EIGHT: The Universe and His Star

NINE: 7DREAM

Prompts: [CLOSED]

PLEASE COMMENT IDEAS! I'm going to run out at some point and they'll be greatly appreciated :)

If I run out of prompts or can’t think of more ideas for one week, the next week will start early.

The rules for prompts are

•Can be for any ship (within NCT DREAM)

•Can be based around a single member

•Can be an AU or real life

•NOT SMUT

[CLOSED]

Thank you!


	2. Three Words (lazy, fat, useless)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Haechanislovehaechanislife who asked for 'a markhyuck scenario; where they fight like VERY bad, to the point of name calling and stuff and the other members are there too witnesses it all and try to stop it, but mark accidentally slips a comment about Hyuck that hurts him pretty bad, like “ at least I’m not chubby and lazy and don’t do anything all day long” and then he leaves. Haechan reacts to the comment as he stops properly eating and overworks himself to the point where he collapses on one of their practices. And idk mark ends up feeling guilty af and apologizes and actually confess, and everyone is YEET finally'
> 
> warning for a bit of self-hatred

The words don't stop replaying in his mind.

Every time he shuts his eyes, every time he stops concentrating on the dance moves, he can see Mark's face creased with an anger that Donghyuck has never seen before.

Anger directed at him.

And it was all his fault.

Even as he practices along with the other 127 members, he can't quite forget about the look of pure hatred Mark has given him.

The members don't seem to notice that his moves are one second behind, constantly and consistently worse than the others, mind still stumbling over the shock.

He can feel their eyes on him, though, as he trips again and crashes to the floor, messing up yet another practice. He can feel them getting tired, getting frustrated, wondering why he can't get even the simplest thing right.

Agreeing with Mark.

And it was all because of something so, _so_ small.

He'd gone one step too far in his teasing, one joke too much, one sentence that had slipped out of his mouth that made Mark erupt in fury.

It had started off as jut another joke. Nothing out of the ordinary, he was always so clingy with the members anyway.

So clingy, even through he _knows_ that they don't like it, that they only tolerate it because they don't want to get in trouble with the managers.

Their positions in the song change, and he struggles to keep up with the complicated choreography. There's just too much to concentrate on, too much that he just can't think about, not when all that runs through his mind is Mark.

He spins once, focusing on the floor beneath him, trying to block out the harsh words.

The music pounds through the wood, so loud that he can feel the vibrations through the soles of his trainers, but not loud enough to make him forget.

That he'd never seen Mark so angry.

He couldn't even remember what had started the fight, other than that it was his fault, but hateful words had been flying across the room in less than a minute.

A fury had enveloped his mind, blurring out his common sense, anything that could have told him to simply walk away, a pure hatred that had only been spurred on by the absence of any other members.

It had been just him and Mark.

And the anger that had filled every cell of his body with a dark crimson. His mouth has moved without him even thinking, the red cloud fogging his thoughts.

And despite their argument, despite the fact that Donghyuck was willing to argue for hours normally, letting the anger fester inside him until it burst out, Mark only had to say a few simple words.

A few words that sent Donghyuck's entire world crashing down.

And he could even remember what Mark had exactly said.

He was so _stupid_ that he couldn't remember. Couldn't even do a simple task, even when it had cut him down to the bone.

He couldn't remember the sentence.

But he knew the words.

Fat.

Useless.

Lazy.

The music seems to fade out for a second, and Donghyuck seems to freeze mid jump. His limbs suddenly stop responding, seizing up and refusing to move.

He's simply suspended in the air for what seems like hours, unable to do anything.

Then he comes craving to the ground.

His legs give out from underneath him, and all his force is pushed onto his head. There's a sickening crack as his skull connects with the floor, the pain ricocheting through his mind in spikes of agony.

He can't move his legs, can't bring his arms up to cradle his forehead of wipe away the tears that he knows are beginning to well up. He's vaguely aware of his body curling up, trying to become as small as possible.

Trying to disappear, to fade away and never have to come back to this stupid practice room, to never have to see Mark's stupid handsome face ever again.

There's a strange numbness in his head, a swimming sensation that slowly allows him to realise that he can't hear the music playing anymore, that the vibrations through the cold floor are the only thing telling him that they've kept practicing without him.

Despite the pain in his head, the cotton wool stuffed in his brain, he slowly pushes himself off the floor. His wrist protests, sending spikes of agony shooting up his arm.

He ignores it.

Face burning, he pushes open the doors to the practice room as hard as he can, leaving without looking back.

He had to get away.

He can't stay in that room for one second longer, can't bare to see the looks of confusion as his cheeks burn in shame.

He can't force himself to dance, pretend that there's a huge smile on his face, even as he slowly crumbles inside.

He hasn't gotten far, barely three corridors away, when his legs turn to jelly. His head suddenly feels light, black spots appearing at the edge of his vision. He tries to take another step forwards, but stumbles and ends up grabbing onto a chat to stop himself for falling onto the floor face-first.

Again.

He has to slowly lower himself down, the embarrassment of not even being able to walk properly catching up to him.

Useless.

His eyes prickle with tears, his hands reaching up to his head, skirting around the throbbing area where he'd hit it on the practice room.

The practice room, where all the other members were preparing for their next comeback, but he couldn't because he wasn't trying hard enough, because he was too stupid to get even the easiest moves right.

Instead, he was just sitting in a corridor, when he could be working harder, when he could be practicing just like the others.

Lazy.

He tries to push himself up again, but there's no strength in his arms and he can only sit on the floor pathetically, sobbing uselessly. The black spots at the edge of his sight haven't gone, and the colours seem fuller than before, so he can't even _see_ properly, and all that goes through his foggy mind is that how _stupid_ he is for thinking about how hungry he is when he clearly needs to lose weight.

Fat.

He's so busy hating himself that he doesn't notice someone sitting beside him.

He doesn't notice as they take his hand, palm damp with their own tears and attempt to wipe his away.

"I'm so sorry," says Mark, and his words are broken up by soft hiccoughs, his face pink from the ugly kind of crying that the cameras don't show you.

Donghyuck can't move, can't say anything, can't do anything except stare at Mark and cry uselessly.

But slowly, his fingers move, and he grips the older's hand as if it were the only thing keeping him alive, his life line. He squeezes so hard that he can't feel his fingers, and the pain is the only thing that breaks through the thick cloud in his mind, the only thing that allows him to think.

That Mark is here.

That Mark came back for him.

That Mark, the same Mark that never cried, that spoke venom and hatred, was here sitting next to him with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I didn't mean it," he chokes out, "I didn't mean to call you fat, or lazy, or useless, or stupid, I just wasn't thinking and I was so angry that I didn't think about what I was saying because none of it is true and you shouldn't ever think that it is, Duckie."

Donghyuck's mouth opens, but he can't speak. He can only make pathetic crying noises, sniffling uselessly.

Because, _Duckie._

Mark called him Duckie.

His mind is so focused on the nickname that he almost doesn't hear what Mark says next.

"I'm just scared," says the older, and they make eye contact through the tears, through the pain, "I'm just scared because whenever I look at you my heart seizes up and I can't think properly and I don't know why because it's just _you_ like always and-"

Donghyuck cuts him off, shaking his head viciously, ignoring the aching in his skull. "I'm sorry too," he eventually manages to choke out, though his lungs feel short of breath and Mark squeezes his hand tighter than ever before, "I said things I shouldn't have as well."

He leans forward, and his forehead rests on Mark's shoulder, soaking his sleeve with tears.

He can feel Mark's arms around him, pulling him closer, feel the damp patch from Mark's own tears beginning to form on the back of his head. 

And they stay like that.

There are no more words needed, simply the silence of forgiveness, the closeness between them that seems _right_ in a way that Donghyuck can't explain.

Their fingers stay intertwined, even as Mark presses a kiss to Donghyuck's forehead, the skin salty with sweat and tears, and they both know that maybe, just maybe, they don't need to be so scared.


	3. Bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Xekej who asked for 'Chenle is abused by manager and didn't tell the others? They will slowly find out and try to help.'
> 
> tw for abuse

There are bruises all over Chenle's body.

It hurts every time he takes in a breath, the masterpiece of yellow, green and brown aching like a dull knife.

There are patterns all down his stomach, along his chest, scattered in the fading shapes of fists, of palms and of fingers. There's an ache behind his ear as well, areas where bruises won't form but the skin remains sore anyway.

It hurts even to move, every shift in his weight causing pressure to be placed on another part of his sore body. It's not just the bruises, every muscle in his body aches from practicing every move until he could do it in his sleep, his feet sore and dark with the colour of overuse.

His throat is rough and hoarse, coated with a thick layer of sandpaper that makes it almost impossible to swallow. His eyes ache from being strained, the dark bags underneath them begging him to finally close his eyes and fall into the oblivion of sleep.

But he can't, can't bring himself to untense his body. He can't stop his mind from racing, his body alive with adrenaline, not willing to let his guard down.

There's a strange feeling in his chest that tells him to just get up and leave, to go to him mother's apartment and hold her until the pain finally fades. He wants to cry without fear of being caught, wants to tell someone, wants the bruises to stop marring his skin.

He wants to hold his mother's hand as tight as he can, wants her to never let him go, to tell him that everything will be alright.

But he can't.

He can't leave, can't betray the members like that, can't just put his hands over his ears and forget the world.

And so he just lies there, trying to ignore the fresh pain of the new red marks on his chest, where the water coloured blotches haven't quite formed yet, hoping that tomorrow's set won't hurt as much as today's.

He stares at the ceiling in silence, watching as the glow in the dark stars slowly fade, losing their brightness too the overwhelming darkness of the night. He watches until he can't even make out their outline, until they're just another part of the huge encompassing black.

In some strange way, he can relate to them, like he's one of them.

His glow slowly being sucked out of his soul every time another bruise appears on his skin.

Every time the manager raises his hand, the very second before his fist makes contact with Chenle's skin.

Every time he's kept behind in the practice room, as the other members leave and he's met only with the dread of being beaten.

Again.

Every time it gets just a little bit harder to smile, every time his eyes seem a little bit darker, every time he gets just a bit quieter.

And yet, although the bruises never have enough time to fade completely, they're hidden enough that no one else notices them. They don't spill out onto his arms, or up his neck.

He shifts in his bed again, trying to get comfortable again despite the throbbing in his ribs. Very slowly, he runs a finger over the largest red mark, where the strongest ache is.

It stings, even at the slightest touch, pain shooting through the rib. He can't help but draw a sharp intake of breath at the feeling, tears picking his eyes.

But he can't quite stop pushing down, letting the pain envelop his body, letting the tears roll down his cheeks.

There's more pain than there's ever been in one spot, and there's a sinking feeling in his chest that tells him that he's probably cracked a rib.

Slowly, as not to cause too much pain, he makes his way off the bed, wincing every time he puts too much pressure on a single part of his body. His feet scream as they're dragged across the carpet, soles blistering from the amount of practice he's been doing.

He has to limp to the bathroom, as quiet as he can be, biting his lip to stop himself from crying out.

But he makes it, and he grabs a bottle from the medicine cabinet, a soothing cream meant to take some of the pain away. It's Jaemin's, for when his back gets too painful to move, but they've all used it at some point from small injuries that they don't want their managers to know about.

He squeezes it onto his fingers, slowly massaging it into the area by his rib. It's surprisingly cold, sending goosebumps up his spine from the contrast in temperatures.

Even the lightest touch of his fingertips causes spikes of agony down his chest, and he gasps in pain, grabbing the sink for support. The cream slips out of his hand, falling to the floor.

"Chenle?" Says a voice from the door of the bathroom.

Chenle freezes, but not before he turns to face Jisung, who's still wiping the sleep out of his eyes but isn't too tired to notice that the older's shirt is caught on his shoulder, displaying the mosaic of bruises to the world.

They make eye contact for a few seconds, neither knowing what to say, even as Chenle's shirt slowly falls back down.

Jisung takes a step backwards. "I'm going to get the others," he says, eyes not leaving Chenle's until he's gone and he's alone again.

He sinks down onto the lid of the toilet, finally unclenching his hand from the sink, where his knuckles have turned white from force. His chest hurts, but that's nothing compared to the numbness that's beginning to take over.

It takes a few seconds for him to realise that he's crying.

And it feels like no time at all before there's people around him, pulling him out of the bathroom and into the living room, sitting him down on a sofa and wrapping him in a thick blanket.

Through the tears, he can see the rest of NCT Dream looking at him with a strange sort of worry in their eyes, an expression that doesn't fit with the happiness and laughter that's usually there. His rib still screams in pain, and the bruises haven't lost their dull throbbing, but the embarrassment rising his cheeks cancels the agony out.

His face is incredibly red, and he wants nothing more than to just hide beneath his bed, wishing that he's never gotten up in the first place, wishing that he'd never dreamed of being a singer.

He can see the judgement, the pity, and he doesn't want it. He doesn't want their sympathy, he doesn't want them to treat him any differently.

He just wants it to be all over.

And almost as if they know this, the members say nothing. They simply sit by him in silence.

No one has switched the lights on, so the only illumination is from the open bathroom door, but no one moves to shut it. They just sit there, all in pyjamas, eyes puffy from sleep and hair sticking up at random angles.

At some point, Mark leaves, taking his phone with him. They can still hear once he's gone, speaking to Taeyong in hushed tones.

But none of the rest of them move.

There's an understanding that they don't want to break with movement or noise, a silence of protection.

And maybe, that's all it takes.

At 2:00 AM, surrounded by his friends, Chenle realises he's not alone.


	4. Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Agnes Lessie who asked for a car crash scenario
> 
> tw for mentions of blood and a car crash

There's quiet in the usually noisy dressing room.

Despite almost all of NCT being there, despite the room being packed full of bodies, all crowding around the same television, there's silence.

Each and every set of eyes is trained on the screen. The remote lies discarded on the floor, no one moving to pick it up. There's none of the usual squabbling about channels, no one complaining that the news is too boring to watch, or deciding to play music over the top of it.

There's no one telling them to hurry, no one telling them to stop messing around and actually get a move on, because all the manager's eyes are glued to the screen.

There's the faint sound of music from the dressing room's next to theirs, the sound of laugher travelling through the walls. There's happiness there, the television screen flickering with cartoons or reality TV shows.

But for most of NCT, for all the members in their room, there's silence.

And the sound of the reporter on the television announcing that six members of kpop group NCT Dream have been found in a crashed car, presumably on the way to a performance on a music show.

A performance that they'll never reach.

And a performance that'll never go ahead, because no one can move, no one can breathe properly, and all the makeup is beginning to run as the news sinks in.

The silence is now broken up by tiny sniffs, tiny chokes of breath between the tears. It's interjected with the sound of the managers's pen dropping to the floor. The sound of the reporter moving onto the next story, like the lives of the boys don't matter to her.

To her, they're nothing more than words on a prompter, nothing more than her next pay check, nothing more than another story of another someone else.

But to NCT they're family.

A manager turns the TV off, not wanting to hear any more, and the movement causes the silence to shatter into tiny pieces. Suddenly, there's life and sound as they all frantically try and get hold of Dream's managers, all try and locate the hospital that they've been sent too.

There are phones out, trying to search for as much information as possible, scrolling through endless social media sites, searching through the sympathy posts for any type of message at all, anyone who knew anything.

But Mark can't move. His eyes are wide, still trained on the television like he hasn't quite realised that it's turned off. Like he's still frozen in that first second, brain not caught up.

And they all know why.

Mark was supposed to be in that car.

He was supposed to be travelling with them, but there'd been a spare seat in a different car and they'd done Rock Paper Scissors to see who got it.

Mark had won.

His back shudders, the first movement in what seems a lot longer than almost two minutes, and he curls up on himself, shrinking into the chair. His tiny breaths are only just audible through the chaos.

Someone reaches out to take hand, trying to calm him down, but he shrinks back, pushing them away and backing into a corner. He brings his legs up to his head, resting it on his knees so no one can see the tears rolling down his cheeks. He looks so vulnerable.

There's nothing they can do to comfort him, he pushes them all away when they get too close and refuses to talk, mind too far gone to get any words.

They can only wait for news, stuck in the purgatory of not knowing.

Someone calls them to perform over the speaker, and they don't move. Their performance is cancelled shortly after, leaving the fans in confusion until they raise their phones and see the news.

And finally, a manager raises their hand. It's such a small motion, practically a miracle that they notice it, but it works. All eyes are trained on the phone that the manager holds to their ear, all ears straining to hear the hushed words being exchanged.

All hearts stop as the manager ends the call.

"They're okay."

—— ——————— ——

_The cars on its side, and there's the coppery taste of blood in their mouths. The radio has stopped playing, the front of the car crumpled in, and the lively buzz of conversation has disappeared, replaced with a tense silence._

_They can all see the last few seconds in their mind, and the adrenaline still courses through their veins._

_The members sitting on the side of the car facing the sky shift uncomfortably, dangling by their seat belt. For a second they wish that they hadn't chosen that seat, until they realise that they're lucky to be alive, and any seat is better than the suspicious quiet from the front seats where blood stains the dashboard._

_And they stay there, until Jeno shifts slightly, the seat belt beginning to cut into his ribs, and the car wobbles for a second before landing the right way up._

_There's cuts all up Chenle's arm from the broken glass, but it's nothing serious, despite the pain when he realises he can't move his wrist. He gasps in pain at the movement of the car, and that small noise is still it takes for them to burst into life._

_They start taking again, ignoring the hoarseness in their throats, frantically checking that there are five replies when they ask a question._

_No one mentions the silence from their manager and the driver._

_It's Renjun that leans over, Renjun who sat in the middle and was uninjured, taking the manager's phone despite the red stains on the buttons, and his face is pale when he sits back down, an ashen grey that doesn't quite look right._

_Haechan squeezes the hands of Jaemin and Jisung, incredibly relieved when they both squeeze back. It's a relief that floods his body, washing out the selfish desire to have Mark sitting by him instead._

_He doesn't notice that Jaemin's smile, the sign that he's okay, is plastered on like bad wallpaper, doesn't notice that he's holding his arm to his chest and that the bones definitely should bend that way._

_He doesn't notice that Jisung's eyes aren't quite focused, that he rubs his forehead gingerly, wincing at the ache of concussion._

_But he helps them get out of the car when the ambulance finally arrives, helps them avoid the sick eyes of the cameras, the flashing phones of fans who soak in their misery and pain._

_And just before they're separated into different ambulances, before they're checked down for unhurried and taken out of the spotlight, he takes the phone when it rings and Renjun's mouth can't make any sound._

_"We're okay."_


	5. The Last Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually really liked this idea but i dont think i did it justice
> 
> oh well

In some strange way, it's a fitting end to the world.

It's not even like it was a surprise, the news prophesied for months before the scientists finally confirmed a date and time, the predicted impact date of the piece of space rock hurtling towards them.

They were given one week to live before everything was consumed by rock and fire.

Jaemin sits outside to watch it.

Behind him, in the house that they'd bought only a few months before, Renjun and Jeno exchange a last few text messages with family members they'll never see again.

Their house (the house that they saved up for months to buy, only to never even get the chance to pay the mortgage) is falling apart, and Renjun has to step over a towering pile of books to reach the younger when he eventually puts his phone down, ignoring the low power notifications.

The doors are all piled in the bathtub because three days ago Jeno decided that he liked open plan houses and wanted to see what it looked like. It hadn't made that much of a difference in the end.

There's a huge pile of stuffed toys on the guest room bed, the result of Jaemin impulse-buying nearly the entire toy aisle of a huge supermarket with his life-savings, because his life was only going to last for six more days and he'd never had that many as a child.

The table hasn't been used for days, except for a stage when they held a karaoke night, Renjun singing at the top of his lungs for the first time in fifteen years, any worries about what the neighbours might think gone.

They've leapt from book pile to book pile in the longest game of 'the floor is lava', liberated every animal in the local pet store, eaten enough candy to each get diabetes three times over. They've even drunk all the wine that Jeno's parent made them promise to save until their tenth anniversary, a date that'll stay forever eight years away.

And every wall is painted in bright colours, the empty paint cans scattered outside the front door. A mural of flowers spreads through the corridors, the carpet is stained with a pastel pink in the lounge, there are smiley faces and cats all over the bathroom.

It's the kind of tacky that eventually grows old, but they don't have to worry about that, living in the moment of their paint-versions holding hands forever.

They don't have to worry about the paintbrushes left in the cans drying up, because it'll never get the chance to.

They don't have to worry about leaving the house with candles still on, because it'll all be burnt in under an hour anyway.

They don't have to worry about growing old together, about fading affection or huge fights or forgetting the feeling over ever being in love.

Renjun sits by Jaemin, pushing a few candles out of the way to make room. He pries the younger's hand away from his knees, drawing circles on his palms with his fingertips.

Jaemin looks at him, and his eyes are wide and sad. "It's all over so soon," he says, and he's right. They've barely had a chance to live, barely even experienced to world and yet it's all being taken away.

Renjun doesn't quite know how to reply, so he simply squeezes his hand. Jeno takes his other one, having finally thrown his phone at the wall, something he'd always wanted to do but had been too afraid of the consequences.

There were no consequences now.

There's a brief silence after that. No one has any words that they want to say, nothing that fits the moment, the acceptance and unfairness.

Then Jaemin's phone starts to play a familiar song, the tune distorted through the tiny speakers but still undeniably recognisable. He pulls it out of his pocket, setting it on the ground.

They all know what the song means.

A few days ago, Renjun had worked out that if they played it at exactly the right time, the world would burn around them just as it finished, and they'd set a timer on Jaemin's phone.

The last chord of the song they got married to will ring out just as their last breaths do.

And so they stand in a circle, in the tiny garden of their very own house, holding hands as tightly as possible. The tears in their eyes are ignored in favour of huge smiles, a happiness that isn't faked.

The sky begins to change above them, the air becoming thick and hot, burning with the anticipation of the incoming collision. The stars are out in the form of tiny chunks of space rock, bright against the red streaks of the sky.

There are no words.

Everything is forgotten in the last few seconds, the shadow that falls over them unnoticed. All they can see is each other, truly happy, living without regrets to the very last moment.

The last chorus of their song cuts off halfway through, but there's no one left alive to notice.


	6. A Walk In The Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Junguwuismyreligion who asked for 'NCT dream goes to a christmas festival but Chenle is too sick to go'
> 
> and Lovemybbydreamies who asked for 'Since there were Chenle birthday not long ago then how about the hyungs forget about it so he went for a walk and got lost'

He coughs again, trying to cover his mouth with his hand, trying to look perfectly normal, but he's a split second too late and all eyes in the room are on him again.

"Why don't you go to bed?" Says one of the older members, and Chenle's ears are so filled with cold that he can't even hear who it is. His eyes are watering from the force of the cough, and his cheeks flush a bright red from embarrassment as he leaves the 127 dorm, making his way to the dream dorm.

He hadn't wanted to leave.

But he can't stand the looks of concern, doesn't want their sympathy or pity.

And their forgetfulness.

The pain in his chest from the cough is gone, replaced by a sort of anger that he can't quite describe. It floods through his veins, bringing more tears to his eyes, making his fists clench until he realises that it's not anger at all.

It's a combination of fury and disappointment, the sudden realisation of why he'd gone to the 127 dorms in the first place.

He'd hoped they'd wish him a happy birthday.

He wipes a tear away from his cheek, frustration beginning to build up. This day was going horribly, and the stupid illness was the cause of everything.

When he'd woken up, it had been to a silent dorm and a note explaining that Dream had gone to the festival an hour away without him. They'd said that he was too ill to take, that they didn't want his cold spreading to the rest of them, that they thought he should get as much sleep as possible in order to heal quickly.

And although the reasons were logical, the only reason they knew about the festival was because of him.

It was _him_ that had found the poster, _him_ that had gotten permission and organised the entire trip. He'd been looking forward to it for weeks.

And it was all gone.

All because he couldn't stop himself from jumping in puddles a few days ago, _knowing_ that he'd get wet and that he might get ill.

And he'd been so stupid, thinking that he was invincible.

He coughs again just before he can open the door to his room, but this time it's much more forceful. His hand holds onto the door handle with enough force to turn his knuckles white as his lungs heave.

He sniffs pathetically.

And pauses.

He doesn't _want_ to have to stay inside, doesn't want to sit in his room getting bored and waiting until everyone else came back. He was too tired to force a smile on his face and pretend to be excited about their purchases.

And so he doesn't.

He grabs a coat and shrugs it on, letting his impulses take over his body. The frustration in his mind stops him from thinking properly, and before he knows it he's outside.

The cold air quickly surrounds him, freezing his fingers and ears, attacking every exposed part of his face. He begins to wish that he'd brought a pair of gloves, but quickly dismisses the idea. There's no way he's going back inside the building for a while, not whilst he feels so trapped and alone there. Instead, he compromises and sticks his hands in his pockets.

A car goes past, splattering the bottom of his jeans with mud from a recent storm. But Chenle can't bring himself to care. He's too hurt about other things to worry about an insignificant pair of jeans, although the back of his mind whispers that he loves these jeans, that he should just go back and stop being so stubborn.

He ignores it.

After standing still for a while, he starts to walk in a random direction, hoping that the fresh air will clear his mind, washing away some of the childish pain, and planning to come back when he feels better.

Maybe, when he comes back they'll have realised it's his birthday, and there'll be a cake out for him with balloons and presents. Maybe they'll apologise for forgetting, or maybe they were planning for a surprise birthday party all along.

He doubts it.

Everyone is too stressed, the new comeback taking up all the space in their minds. They can only think in song lyrics and dance practices, and when they're not doing that they're too tired to do anything else.

They don't have time to think about silly things like birthdays.

Any yet he knows that this moody person isn't him, and that he just needs some time to cool off, but the dorm in all its silence is lonely and sad. The streets of Seoul are never quiet. They're filled with a life that never dies down, and Chenle thrives off human interaction and vibrancy.

He doesn't realise that he doesn't have a phone on him, or a watch, or that he hasn't told anyone where he's going.

His mind is still full of missed happy birthdays, of hurt feelings, and blocked noses.

—— ———————— ——

They only find him, hours later, by chance.

His fingers are so cold by that point, and he's been sat on a park bench in the middle of Seoul for about two hours. He didn't move from his seat, even as the sun disappeared behind the buildings and the night began to set in.

It's because he doesn't want to admit that he got lost, that he couldn't find his way back despite his best efforts.

He doesn't want to admit that he gave up.

And he doesn't have to. He's met with apologies of leaving him, of tales about how they all felt so bad that they had to come back because they couldn't enjoy the festival at all. He's met with tight hugs that seem to last forever, and although no one mentions it, he can tell that they were worried about him.

And even when they get back to the dorms, his room is full of presents that they wanted to give him personally, presents that were hidden in cupboards and under beds so that he wouldn't find them no matter how hard he searched.

There's a sad looking birthday cake on the table in their dorm, a section looking very squashed, and the air is full of contrasting stories about how it happened.

There are two very different accounts: one involving Jisung sitting on it by accident and the other involving some sort of mutant land shark.

And they don't pity him, even as he sneezes loudly. They simply sing louder, watching as the flames from the candles light up Chenle's face.


	7. One By One They Noticed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Demi_dings who asked for 'Jaemin gets sick and tries to hide it from the others'

It's actually Jisung that notices first.

He only notices because he realises that his cheeks aren't as sore as normal, and there's only one reason for that. He quickly scans the room for Jaemin, and upon realising that the older isn't even there, narrows his eyes.

"Where's Jaemin?" He asks, but the question is only met with shrugs and noncommittal hums. None of the Dreamies know, then. Jisung glances towards the door once, his frown deepening.

"He's probably still asleep," offers Donghyuck, with a hint of jealousy in his voice, from where he's sat on the floor, bags heavy below his eyes.

Jisung nods slowly. It makes sense, Jaemin is hard to get out of bed in the morning, especially when there's nothing particularly important going on as an incentive.

It is slightly strange, he thinks, since the older was definitely up at one point. He'd seen him making breakfast, and they'd all thanked him for it since he was the only one that could cook properly.

He'd probably just gone back to bed, Jisung thinks, shanking his head. He should really stop worrying, and instead make the most of having his personal space back for an hour.

-

It's Jeno that notices second, and it's only because Jaemin doesn't wake up when he shakes him.

He's standing in the younger's room, early in the morning, eyes ready to become as big as possible in an attempt to get Jaemin to cook for him. It's become part of their routine, something that happens almost every morning.

And Jaemin would usually be awake by now.

Jeno frowns, shaking the younger again. "Jaemin~," he says, voice as cute as possible, "I'm hungry, can you make me food?"

This is the long where Jaemin would usually roll over, pushing Jeno off of him and beginning to make his way into the kitchen. There'd be food on the table within fifteen minutes, the delicious smell waking up the rest of the Dreamies if they weren't awake yet.

Instead, Jaemin shudders slightly, kicking Jeno away without even opening his eyes. He pulls the covers back over his head and curls himself into a ball, falling asleep again.

Jeno shrugs it off. He's not going to get a bruise from falling off the bed, and the younger is probably just grumpy from coffee-withdrawal. It's better if he's left alone to sleep.

Maybe it was about time that Jeno learnt to cook for himself.

-

Donghyuck and Chenle notice together.

They're sitting in the back of a car together, with the radio turned up as loud as possible, so loud that they can barely hear each other talk. They're belting out the lyrics to random pop songs at the top of their lungs, faces split into huge grins.

Or, at least, they were.

Jaemin's stopped singing.

His eyes have fluttered closed and he's resting his head against the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. His mouth hangs slightly open, and by the look on his face he hasn't realised that he's being watched.

One of the staff members turns the music down, probably relieved that they've stopped yelling, and wishing that she hadn't been put in the car with the three loudest members. But now the car is too quiet. Or perhaps Jaemin's breathing is too loud, his chest rising and falling in heavy gasps.

Chenle raises his eyebrows at Donghyuck, who can only shrug in reply.

The older's eyes stray to Jaemin and he sighs, wishing that he could fall asleep that easily. The dark lines under his eyes are pretty much permanent at this point. And there's also a bit of annoyance, no matter how much he tries to bury it. The relaxing atmosphere from earlier has gone, and there's a tenseness inside him that can only be loosened by making as much noise as possible.

So he settles for humming quietly, smiling when Chenle joins in to create on overly complicated duet. If Jaemin was just going to fall asleep, maybe they'd invite Renjun or Jeno next time.

-

Renjun almost doesn't notice.

Jaemin's just as affectionate with him as he usually is, so nothing seems to have changed for a little while.

It's only when he walks in on Jaemin pressing an ice pack to his forehead at three in the morning that he realises something is strange.

The younger doesn't notice him at first, Renjun's body hidden by the darkness of the kitchen, the light from the fridge barely casting a shadow on the tiled floor.

He doesn't notice even as Renjun takes out a chair and sits on it, suddenly incredibly curious about what Jaemin's going to do next. He manages to stay completely still and invisible for at least five minutes, holding his breath as the younger closes the fridge door and walks right past him, ice pack still held against his head.

He doesn't make any sound as Jaemin leaves the kitchen, shutting the door to his room quietly. And he sits in silence for a while, as the house descends back into quiet.

There are explanations spinning round is head, trying to come up with reasons that fit the behaviour he's just seen.

Maybe it's because he's still half asleep, but the only decent explanation he can think of is aliens.

No.

He shakes his head. He grabs the cup of water he got up for and downs it, before yawning. There's no point staying awake. Slowly, he makes his way back to bed, and the encounter has disappeared from his mind by the time he wakes up.

Dismissed as a strangely realistic dream, although he can't help but frown when he sees an empty glass in the sink that has been completely clear when he'd gone to bed.

-

Mark isn't the most observant person, so it's not really a surprise that he notices last.

Especially when he barely gets a chance to breathe between song lyrics and dance moves, beats echoing through his mind every single second of every single day.

And it's comeback season, which means more time spent at the 127 dorms, bigger bags under his eyes, less and less sleep every night.

It means he doesn't have enough time to be a good leader. No matter how much he tries, he can't notice everything, especially when he's not even there half the time.

So when he only notices that Jaemin hasn't left his room for five hours, it's not really his fault.

And as soon as he does notice, he gets up and pushes open the door to the younger's room, heart skipping a beat when he knocks and there's no response.

There's a wash of relief when he sees Jaemin sitting in a chair, head resting on the desk. His forehead of creased, and the hard surface is going to leave a red mark, but Mark doesn't have the heart to move him, not when he looks so peaceful.

Instead, he tiptoes back out of the room, shutting the door as quietly as possible.

He doesn't realise that if he's still asleep, Jaemin has been sleeping for a solid twelve hours. He doesn't realise that Jaemin probably isn't as well as he'd like to appear, and that the large periods of is was probably a side effect of that.

He simply sits back down, and thinks about how the next line in his rap should go.

-

Arguably, Jaemin is the first and the last to notice.

He's the only one to actually realise that he's sick, beginning his week-long attempt to hide it from the other members, but he's the last to realise that everyone else has worked it out.

He's the last to realise that _maybe_ his illness is a bit more severe that a cold.

But maybe it doesn't matter. When he falls, when he's asleep for too long, there's always people to wake him up and put him back on his feet.

Despite no one actually mentioning that he's ill, he soon realises that he's not being woken up for schedules any more. That Jisung hasn't been fighting his cheek-pinches as much, that Jeno's stopped asking for food, that Donghyuck and Chenle are being extra quiet around him, that Renjun always seems to be filling up new ice packs, that Mark makes sure that no one goes near him when he's crashed out in his room.

And that they do notice, that they do care.

And maybe even, the next time he's ill, he won't try and hide it.


	8. Inevitability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for ZainabFarooqui who asked for 'Chensung discussing what NCT Dream would be like without the hyungs, as in after they graduate'

It's late at night when Jisung and Chenle finally mention things worth more than meaningless small talk.

It's a something they've been avoiding talking about for a while, something that's been playing at the back of both of their minds. Something inevitable, that neither of them can change no matter how much they try.

Eventually, they'll all leave Dream.

They'd known it from the very start, so it's not exactly a surprise, but it's still a strange concept. The graduation was part of their group, and it wasn't like they were going to leave NCT altogether, but there was a sensation inside both their chests when the news was announced that could only be described as shock.

"They should have added more members." Says Jisung, slightly bitterly. There's a pressure on being the youngest that he can't quite explain, and it's a burden that he hasn't expected to have held for that long. "They left a too long gap. There's no chance to adapt properly."

Chenle can only nod in response, because it's true.

If SM has actually added younger members, then maybe thy wouldn't have this problem. They would have been more accepting of Mark's departure, would have been used to the constantly changing line-up.

But they didn't, and now there was a void in their chests whenever they thought about the leader.

"And the 00-line will leave next year." Chenle says.

Jisung squeezes his hand. If they can barely process Mark, then they definitely can't handle anyone else leaving. After that, it'll only be them, the dorms seeming strangely empty.

There would be no Jaemin to pinch their cheeks, no Jeno to make them roll their eyes at his bad jokes, no Donghyuck to constantly attack them with kisses, no Renjun to lovingly strangle them.

There'll be younger members to look after, and they're just _not ready_ for the responsibility.

And in two years (no time at all, Jisung thinks, squeezing his eyes shit and trying not to think about it), Chenle will leave Jisung alone.

They won't be able to see each other everyday anymore, torn apart by co flicking schedules and dance practices that go on too long. They won't live together, won't be able to just walk across the corridor to see each other, won't be able to sleep in the same bed.

Chenle might not even get to stay in South Korea. He could debut in a Chinese unit, and they could be limited to long distance calls with no real meaning behind their words.

Too far away.

His hand stiffens, and almost as if Chenle knows what's going through Jisung's head, he smiles. It's barely visible in the dark, but there's so much comfort in what Jisung can see that it doesn't matter.

Chenle pulls him closer, leaning his head on his shoulder. "It's okay." He says, not just talking to the younger but also trying to reassure himself. "It's okay." His lips move against Jisung's shoulder as he speaks, the fabric of his shirt damp with his breath. But he doesn't move.

They don't move from where they sit for a while.

Just thinking, thinking harder than they've ever thought before about the inevitable.

And how they will survive.


	9. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Skydancer8 who asked for 'Haechan finds out he has brain tumor but tells no one and Mark finds him in the dorm having a seizure'
> 
> tw for mentioned seizures and cancer
> 
> and major character death :)

In reality, it would have all been a lot easier if Donghyuck had just told everyone. It would have saved Mark a lot of trouble, stopped him worrying about things that really weren't true, and maybe even given them a bit more time together.

But he hadn't.

He'd kept it close to his chest, faking a smile so genuine that nobody, not even Mark, could tell it was fake. He'd lied through his teeth at points, hiding paperwork anywhere he could find. He'd left dance practice for vocal training so naturally that no one thought to suspect that it wasn't vocal training at all.

And now, all his careful work had come undone.

Mark sits next to him on the sofa. He doesn't know the whole story yet, but he's going to make Donghyuck tell it to him. There's some things that have to be discovered eventually, some secrets that have a way of being found out.

And Mark had found out by walking into the 127 dorm and seeing Donghyuck having a seizure on the floor.

Despite having no training on what to do, he knew he had to do something. In the end, he'd reacted on pure adrenaline, moving before his brain even had time to process the situation, quickly pushing away anything that the younger's flailing arms could hit, anything that could cause a possible injury, and then he's had to wait.

Wait for answers, until Donghyuck managed to sit back up, cheeks red from embarrassment and excuses falling from his lips like leaves in autumn.

Mark didn't accept any of them.

He'd sat him down on the sofa, taking his hand for stability, and looked Donghyuck in the eye. He'd told him to tell him the truth. That he wouldn't judge, no matter what it was, and that he'd _always_ be there.

And Donghyuck's eyes had filled with tears, fists clutching the fabric on Mark's back as he was pulled into a tight embrace. His words had been quiet, a hoarse whisper in the shaky voice of truth, and it had been for Mark's ears and Mark's ears only.

Donghyuck was ill.

Once the secret was out, every single blank line in Mark's head suddenly connected. His eyes open slightly in a true surprise that he couldn't conceal.

Donghyuck was ill.

The room was quiet, discounting the younger's quiets sniffs, the tears that fell down his cheeks. There was a silence that shouldn't be there, filling every gap in the air with unspoken words and half finished thoughts.

Donghyuck was ill.

And it was the the kind of ill without a cure.

The kind of ill that idols don't get, that shouldn't even cross the mind of someone as young as him, that people as beautiful as Donghyuck should never even have to hear about. The kind of ill that's only ever heard about, something that couldn't ever possible happen to them until it does.

A brain tumour.

It leaves a sick feeling at the pit of Marks stomach even just thinking about it.

Donghyuck pulls away, smiling through the tears, stuttering out sentences about losing his balance, about one last comeback, about leaving NCT to spend his last few months in a hospital room somewhere.

There's an acceptance in his voice that doesn't seem right, one that makes Mark want to fight the world, to punch whatever God there is for doing something so horrible to someone so perfect.

How long has Donghyuck known? How long has he been facing this alone, struggling as the members made him stay back when he messed up a dance move, hiding his pain?

How long was he going to hide it from them?

Mark can't breathe. The logical part of his brain tells him that he can, that he's already be dead if he couldn't, but it's the only words he can find to describe how he feels. The air pushed out of his lungs, the lightheadedness, the black spots appearing at the edge of his vision as he struggles to think.

As he struggles to place together one coherent thought, placing the letters together slowly. It's all his pain collected into two words.

Not Donghyuck.

Not Donghyuck.

Not Donghyuck, who lights up the practice room with his smile, who is always there no matter how much Mark pushes him away, who glows with the light of a thousand suns.

Not Donghyuck, who never did anything wrong, who's increasingly been getting more touchy, who's eyes have been darker recently.

Not Donghyuck.

Mark doesn't want to say goodbye. He wants to scream, wants to cry, wants to lie through his teeth and say that it's going to be okay.

Mark doesn't want to say goodbye, even months later, when Donghyuck asks to see him. He refuses to say it, stuck in a small hospital room with the smell of antiseptic everywhere except the slowly wilting flowers by Donghyuck's bed.

He refuses to say it, even when Donghyuck's skin is almost the same colour as the sheets he lies on, even when his eyes are dull, their light almost extinguished.

He refuses to say goodbye, so he doesn't.

Donghyuck says it for him.


	10. Young For a Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for AmandaSe00 who asked for 'someone puts a spell on nct and it turns Haechan into a toddler for a few days'
> 
> about 3/4 of the way through i decided i could have written this much better but it was too late to fix it :/
> 
> also I cant write dialogue to save my life

It's arguably not the weirdest thing that's happened to NCT. It could even be described as pretty tame compared to some of the situations they've been put into. For instance, that one time Sicheng turned into a cat for a week, when all of NCT U turned into girls for several very confusing days, when half of them had suddenly been able to breathe fire about a month ago. Even when Lucas had managed to get his foot stuck in the toilet.

But it's the first time NCT Dream have had to deal with it alone.

Stuck in the USA, with no way of easily getting back to the dorms where the older members could explain what to do. No way of even contacting them, since they've all had their phones confiscated to focus on filming the new music video.

A music video that will probably be delayed for a week or two.

Because, sitting on the bed that an adult Donghyuck went to sleep on, is a very not-adult Donghyuck.

Jaemin stares at him with wide eyes. He's given Donghyuck one of his stuffed toys to try and calm him down, since he'd woken up with tears in his eyes and shouts caught in his throat, and now is trying to work out how old he is.

Possibly... five? Or six?

He doesn't know, he's never been particularly good at guessing ages. All he knows is that Donghyuck's cheeks haven't lost their baby fat yet, that his eyes look impossibly huge, and that he is absolutely _adorable._

"I'm now adopting Donghyuck," he announces.

Renjun sighs. "You can't adopt him," he says, always the voice of reason, "Hopefully he'll be back to normal soon."

"And?" Says Jaemin, gathering Donghyuck into his arms and squeezing his cheeks, squealing as the five year old pouts. "He's so cute! I will protect him with my life and you cannot stop me."

"If you adopt him, you'll have to deal with pre-teen Donghyuck." Jeno says, from the corner of the room. Jaemin pales. They'd known him just as he was leaving that age, and it wasn't particularly an experience he was looking to repeat.

Jaemin puts him down gingerly. "Maybe I'm not ready to be a father," he says, memories of the times that they don't speak about flooding his mind.

If Donghyuck hears them, he doesn't show any annoyance. He doesn't react at all, completely absorbed in his own little world.

That is, until he pulls off an ear of Jaemin's stuffed rabbit with an evil grin on his face.

-

"I don't want it." Donghyuck pushes the plate away, turning his nose up.

The rest of the Dreamies look at each other helplessly. No matter what they do, they can't get Donghyuck to eat anything they make. After giving up suggesting different meals, they'd settled on take away pizza, something that no one could turn away.

Or so they'd thought.

Donghyuck is flat out refusing to eat the food, even though they _know_ he likes it. It's one of his favourite meals at home, what he always suggests when they can't be bothered to cook. He absolutely loves it.

"Why don't you want it?" Asks Mark tentatively, almost as if he's afraid of the answer.

Donghyuck narrows his eyes at him, arms crossed, bottom lip sticking out. "Don't like it," he says, "It smells weird."

"It smells weird?" Renjun can't quite keep the disbelief out of his voice, "What about it could _possibly_ smell weird? It's literally just pizza!"

Donghyuck doesn't reply. He simply crosses his arms again, this time even harder. "It smells weird," he says, not changing his mind. A small hand reaches out and pushes the plate even further away, across the table until it bumps into Jisung's.

"Guess I'll just eat it then, if no one wants it," says Jisung, picking up one of the slices. He can see Donghyuck's eyes widen as he opens his mouth as wide as it can go.

And just as he'd thought, right before he can bite into the pizza slice, Donghyuck is out of his seat, pulling the plate back to him protectively. He doesn't break eye contact as he begins to eat, eyes narrowed suspiciously as if Jisung is about to take it back.

Renjun buries his face in his hands, letting out a muffled scream of frustration.

-

It's possibly the first time that Donghyuck's looked innocent all day. His eyelashes are long against his cheeks, skin still tanned from days in the sun, the effects of beauty standards not quite reached his innocent mind. One hand is buried in the sofa cushions, and his mouth is slightly open.

He'd fallen asleep halfway through Finding Nemo, which he'd somehow persuaded them to watch. They'd noticed that the giggles and loud comment had begun to quiet down about fifteen minutes through the film, and the rest of the time had been spent trying not to laugh at Donghyuck's futile attempts to keep himself awake.

One of his legs is resting on Chenle's stomach, who doesn't look very pleased to be pinned under the five-year old, banned from moving incase he woke the sleeping child up.

He looks angelic.

Face free of all the worries that they know that he'll face when he's older, mind without the constant stress of new diets and foundations shades too light.

There's a smudge at the side of his mouth, remnants of the tub of chocolate ice cream he'd managed to finish off by himself. The ear of Jaemin's rabbit is still tucked into one tiny pocket.

His chest flutters in his sleep, eyes moving rapidly behind his eyelids. They all know that they should move him to a proper bed, but no one has the heart to wake him up, not when he looks like this.

And so they all sleep on the sofas around him, sleeping in the knowledge that Donghyuck will wake up back to normal tomorrow, making the most of the last few seconds of innocence on his face.


	11. Watercolour Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Trancy who asked for 'A super fluffy soulmates AU with Jaemin and Jeno, like at school'

They meet on the rooftop. Slightly before school starts, the air still cold with night and heavy with fog. It hangs like heavy clouds over the buildings, just scraping the ground, blocking out whole chunks of the watercolour sky. Pink, green, red, blue and yellow, with crisscrossed lines of thick dark grey scribbled across it.

Jaemin doesn't know why he's here.

He doesn't usually come to school this early, doesn't even get up this early. He should be in bed right now, tucked under his covers trying to get a few more seconds of rest. He should be flying across his room in a panic five minutes before school starts, trying to brush his teeth and eat breakfast at the same time.

His friends would probably be turning up in front of his house about now, looking for any signs of movement in the windows and giving up when there's nothing but silence. Walking to school without him in favour of not being late.

He should really be home.

But he isn't.

He's on the roof of his school, one hand stretched over the railing, reaching out into the endless sky with closed eyes. Letting the fog stoke his cheeks, winding the damp air theories his fingers and treading it through his hair.

He's here for a reason.

A reason that's inked on his collarbone, a date and a time and a location that's been there since his birth. Black letters that haven't stretched as he's grown, only becoming clearer with time. They interlock, the handwriting incredibly delicate, looping in tiny swirls and careful lines.

And the reason leads to now.

To this very place, the place that students aren't supposed to go, the place that he's always seen with huge eyes, pointing chubby fingers because he's always known that he'll meet his soulmate here.

And despite all that, there's still a sick feeling in his stomach. It curls with anxiety, twisting into impossible shapes. There's so much doubt in his mind, all his normal confidence sapped from his body, poisoning his thoughts until he's convinced that he'll end up forever alone.

That it's all a sick game, the universe toying with his hopes and dreams, letting him believe for eighteen years before dropping him to the pavement.

He can't open his eyes.

His fingers outstretch even further, extending towards the horizon like it's just a few centimetres away. He doesn't want to look around, the knowledge that there is only seconds left filling his mind until it's all that he can feel, all that he can hear.

There's a sudden gust of wind, sending goosebumps up his arms. It blows his hair away from his face and his spine tingles with the sudden cold.

He almost misses the movement beside him.

The hand that takes his own, squeezing it tight. The fingers that rub over his knuckles in a pattern meant to soothe.

He opens his eyes.

Of course it's Jeno.

Jeno with his eye smile that never fails to make Jaemin's heart skip a beat, Jeno who he's never managed to work up the confidence to speak to. Jeno who left a chocolate bear on Jaemin's desk last Christmas, dropping it onto the wood casually like he hadn't noticed, and then walking away without looking back.

Of _course_ it's Jeno.

He realises that he's not actually surprised, that somewhere deep inside, he already knew it would be him. Like he already knew that they were two parts of one whole.

They don't speak, falling into a comfortable silence. Around them, the sky becomes bluer, the delicate pinks and yellows fading rapidly. The grey fog seems to swirl around them, slowly becoming thinner and thinner, until there's nothing left except the water droplets in their hair.

A bell rings below them, and students begin to enter the school, their chatter just reaching their ears. No one looks up to see them.

"Are you surprised?" Says Jaemin, and his voice is quiet. The wind tugs at his hair again, and Jeno takes his other hand, pulling him closer.

"No," he says. He smiles, one of warmth and protection, one that Jaemin can't look away from. "I knew it would be you."

Because the chocolate bear isn't the only thing that's been left on Jaemin's desk. Tiny daisies with dew still damp on their petals, miniature glass bottles full of sand, sea glass the exact shade between blue and green, soft velvet ribbons, a tiny silver charm off a bracelet.

Every Monday without fail. Every Monday since they started school.

"Did you know?" Jeno asks, and his voice wavers slightly, like he's embarrassed about all the gifts.

Jaemin thinks of the boxes under his bed. Each one carefully labelled with a year, a tiny heart inked below the numbers. Of every Monday opening the this year's box and placing the trinket inside. Of how the space is filled with scraps of fabric the same colour of the sky, tiny crocheted hearts, wilted flowers that he can't throw away.

"Yes." He says, and he presses something into Jeno's hand.

A tiny monopoly piece, slightly dusty from years without use, the cheap metal beginning to fade.

The first gift Jeno had given him.

And behind them, the clouds have completely disappeared, along with the shades of rose and emerald. It's the brightest blue they've ever seen.


	12. Sweet As Frosting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for ZainabFarooqui who asked for 'NCT SURPRISES JISUNG IN DANCING HIGH' and vellichor_productions who asked for 'Jisung feels hella lonely cuz on dancing high he said he had no friends'

"Surprise!"

Jisung can't quite believe his eyes. His legs don't work properly, no matter how much he wants to take another step forward. The door which he'd just opened tries to close but his body is obstructing it, and the door handle digs painfully into his side.

A stray piece of confetti falls from the sky and lands in his hair.

In front of him is something he hadn't expected.

All the members of Dream standing around a small cake. Brightly coloured party hats sit on their heads, and he can count at least three party poppers, the air beginning to fill with the acrid smell of smoke. There are a few candles on the cake, dripping rainbow wax onto the white icing. The flames burn bright.

Right by his ear, Chenle blows an incredibly loud air horn. Somehow the sound startles him into action. He stumbles forwards, finally letting the door close behind him.

On his other side, Mark ruffles his hair, grinning.

Jisung opens his mouth to ask what's happening but he never quite manages to get the words out. His mouth won't form them properly, the surprise inhibiting him for doing anything that's not looking confused.

Luckily, Jaemin seems to get the hint. "It's a surprise party!" He says, "Because you're doing so well at Dancing High!"

But how was this possible? He hadn't seen them in the audience, not for a single performance. They'd all been to busy to watch, and even though he'd hoped and hoped that someone would be able to free up their schedule to support him, his dreams were in vain. And yet, even that knowledge had done nothing to comfort him when he saw that his designated seats were empty.

As always.

But as he looks around, he can't see pity in their eyes. There isn't a hint of sympathy, nothing telling him that they just felt sorry for him. Instead, he sees regret that they weren't able to make it, the cake with his best score on in huge bright numbers as a way to make up for leaving him.

The message that they've always been there for him.

Chenle blows the air horn again, jumping up and down with excitement. They all flinch at the sound, and Renjun sprints across the room to tackle him, murderous intent in his eyes.

Jisung realises a second too late that Chenle's way too close to him, trying to escape the wrath of Renjun, and can't get out of the way quick enough. As Chenle goes down, his hand stretches out for something to grab onto, that something just happens to be Jisung's leg, and he's suddenly pushed forwards. Right towards the cake.

The table wobbles dangerously, and Jisung hits the floor just as it tips over, upending the cake onto his back.

There's silence.

The frosting is sticky on the back of his neck, and the candles have luckily blown out. Slowly, he sits up. The cake takes a little bit of effort to remove, and he places it in his lap once he's managed to rescue what's left.

It looks like someone's sat on it, with a huge crease in the middle. He can hear Jeno complain to Donghyuck about how long it took them to make, but it seems far away, like he's speaking from the end of a long tunnel.

It's the worst cake he's ever seen.

And it's so beautiful.

Before anyone can realise what he's about to do, he digs one hand into the icing, relishing the feeling of the soft sponge beneath his fingers, before throwing the piece at Chenle.

It hits him in the middle of the forehead, sticking there for a second before falling off and leaving a trail of frosting on his shirt.

There's few seconds of confusion, his hand coming up to feel his forehead, before he realises what's happened. And his face splits into a huge grin.

From where he's pinned to the wall, he manages to grab an entire bowl of cheap cheese crisps, and empties it out onto Renjun's head, showering him with neon orange dust.

And the room descends into chaos. Mark dives beneath the table to avoid Donghyuck lunging for the bottles of ketchup, Jaemin and Jeno quickly pull Jisung up in what first seems like an act of friendship but is quickly revealed to be because they want the best weapon- the cake.

The crisps are trodden under foot, and Jisung can only be thankful that it's not carpet underneath them. Icing covers every wall, layered with multicoloured lines of bright red and yellow sauces.

Chenle attempts to blow the air horn again, only to find there's a bit of cake lodged in it. Instead, he just screams as loudly as he can, before launching himself across the room to hang onto Donghyuck. The older boy staggers around blindly for a few seconds, completely disorientated, until he manages to trip onto the sofa, squashing Chenle beneath him.

His foot catches the table, which promptly collapses. Mark shrieks as he's suddenly exposed, and the sound only draws more attention to him. He ends up covered in condiments and frosting not even five seconds later.

On the other side of the room, Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun have managed to push a sofa away from the wall and are trying to use it as a kind of fortress. It doesn't work particularly well, and in a moment of psychic connection, just as they're about to be hit with a particularly large big of cake, Renjun and Jaemin push Jeno out of the shelter. It bounces off his chest, and the look of utter betrayal on his face as he realises they've used him as a shield is priceless.

They eventually run out of food.

They are now wearing what was going to be the basis of the party, and the walls look like they've been badly repainted. There's a comfortable silence that surrounds them, the laughter and giggling beginning to quieten down for the first time.

Jisung's fringe is crusted together with icing, and feels disgusting. It hangs in his eyes, incredibly sticky.

He doesn't mind.

He doesn't mind that he performed to no one, because he knows that he tried his best anyway.

He doesn't mind all the times that he's felt lonely or awkward during filming, because he knows that they're proud of him no matter what.

He doesn't mind, because he knows that he isn't alone.


	13. Can't Help but Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for XiuBabee who asked 'for every single member from Nct dream has a really cute moment with him, cause I cant get enough Renjun x Dream' and Ramindejavin who said 'I NEED RENJUN FLUFF!!!'

_Mark_

"Renjun!"

Renjun turns around at the sound of his name being called. His hand rests on the cold metal of the door handle for a brief second, until he sees that it was Mark calling him, gesturing for him with both hands. He's leaning around the door of the room he's in, and his eyes look incredibly shifty.

Sighing, Renjun rubs his temples. There goes his chance of escaping the Dream dorms. "What?" He calls back, craning his neck to see if he can see what Mark's so intent on hiding.

"It won't take long," is the only response he gets, before Mark shuts door, effectively cutting of Renjun from asking any more question.

There's a sick feeling of dread as he realises that Mark's shut himself in the kitchen.

Realising that his presence might be the only thing stopping the Dream dorm from burning down, he walks down the corridor, entering the room that Mark had disappeared into.

And stops in his tracks.

Right where there kitchen used to be is what looks like the inside of a bakery after a bomb has gone off. The walls are coated with flour and some sort of cake mixture. There are several bowls out, each filled with some sort of inedible looking concoction. There's even an egg dripping down from off the ceiling.

He opens his mouth to ask what exactly happened, and why Mark ever thought it was a good idea to cook in the first place, but he's cut off.

"I have some sweets left from cooking," says Mark, "and I realised that they're your favourite." He presses a small bag of something into Renjun's palm, and then proceeds to push him back out of the kitchen.

As the door shuts behind him, he peers into the bag, confirming that they are in fact his favourite.

As he finally continues his journey outside, he can't help the smile on his face.

_Jaemin_

"You don't have to do this," Renjun had said, watching Jaemin's face for a reaction. But the younger had only shaken his head stubbornly.

And so here they were, halfway through Renjun's favourite horror film. It had aliens in, it had ghosts in, it had supernatural occurrences in. Everything Renjun liked, and everything that Jaemin didn't.

And yet he had insisted to watch it with him when everyone else had been too busy. He'd seen the look of disappointment on Renjun's face, and offered up himself, despite the fact Renjun knew the younger would be entering his room in the early morning scared out of his mind.

Every time there's a jump scare, Jaemin leaps a mile. He clutches onto Renjun's hand with clammy palms, burying his face in his shoulder or hiding behind a blanket when it got too scary.

The popcorn is all over the floor, covering the carpet, from where Jaemin had knocked it over with his foot in a rush to hide from the on-screen monster. He'd squeezed Renjun's hands tight, and Renjun had squeezed back.

He appreciates what Jaemin has done for him. That he hadn't wanted him to be lonely. That he'd been too stubborn to give in, insisting that he wanted to watch it even when Renjun was reluctant, because he knew the older wanted to watch it, really.

And as another unfortunate person is torn to pieces on screen, as Jaemin squeaks in fright, he can't help the smile on his face.

_Chenle_

Every time Chenle visits his mother, every time he returns from staying with her for a comeback, he brings Renjun Chinese food.

Several plastic containers of it, in fact, all labelled with his name in big bold letters, as well as death threats to whoever ate it without permission. All of Renjun's favourite foods are in there, despite him never telling Chenle what they are.

The younger always insists that it's what's left from his visit, that his mother just didn't want it to go to waste. Renjun just raises an eyebrow at that. He knows that there's more to the story, otherwise why would his name be on them all, but he doesn't want to ask.

He's incredibly grateful. He rarely gets to visit home, the only contact with his family long-distance phone calls and blurry Skypes. The scent of authentic Chinese food helps him with homesickness. Whenever he feels particularly down, whenever he just wants to go home and hug his parents, there's always new tubs for him in the fridge the next day.

He walks past Chenle's room one day, and pauses outside. The door is slightly ajar, and Chenle's voice is loud enough to hear clearly from where he's standing.

"He liked the sweet and sour chicken," says Chenle, "so be sure to make that one next time. As well as proper egg-fried rice, he mentioned that the other day."

Renjun _had_ mentioned it the other day, in an offhand comment that he hadn't thought anyone had heard.

As he walks away, closing Chenle's door softly, he can't help the smile on his face.

_Jeno_

He never runs out of art supplies. He used to, back when his sketch pad was hidden underneath his mattress along with his other Moomin things, too embarrassed to show it to the world.

But as soon as he left it out, as soon as he showed Jeno, as soon as he realised that he's get nothing but encouragement from the members, his pencils are never too short, his paints are never empty, his brushes are always soft.

At first, he thinks that Jeno is just doing to look through his drawings. But he leaves a piece of paper there, at an angle that he writes on his hand so that he knows if it's been moved.

And when he gets back from a full-day schedule, when he knows Jeno has been home for a full hour longer when everyone else was out, when he sees that he suddenly has ten more shades of watercolours than before, the paper hasn't been touched.

And so he leaves a note out, in a packet of acrylics that he knows are going to run out soon. All the paper has on it is a question.

'WHY?', written in huge letters.

And when he gets back, he sees that his question has been answered. Not with words, but with a single badly drawn smiley face. The circle is crooked, more like an oval, and the eyes are two very different sizes.

And as he looks as it, as he moves it to reveal newly stocked acrylic paints, he can't help the smile on his face.

_Jisung_

He often thinks that it's strange, that whenever he wants to dance alone in the practice rooms, the practice rooms are empty.

It doesn't seem particularly strange to others, who don't mind sharing but are always happy when they get one to themselves, a luxury in the overcrowded rooms when every trainee wants to improve

They don't seem to understand that Renjun's never had to share a practice room in two years.

More specifically, he hasn't had to share since he mentioned to NCT Dream that he hates sharing the practice rooms, that he's too self conscious to practice when there are other people there, that he hates arguing with others that want to use the rooms.

But he isn't about to question it. Maybe he's just incredibly lucky. Maybe everyone just wants to ignore him.

It isn't until he turns the music off halfway through a song that he notices something is strange. He's just started to practice, and messes up almost immediately. It's a pretty major mistake, so he decides he might as well just start again. And then, through reflection on a mirror, he sees movement.

He can just about make out Jisung's mop of bleach blonde hair, his distinctive outfit. He's pinning something into the door of the practice room, before looking around and shutting the door.

Renjun presses play on the music, letting it fill the room, but doesn't stray dancing. Instead he makes his way to the door, too curious to resist not looking at whatever it was.

'Practice room reserved. Please do not interrupt- Park Jisung'

They _can_ reserve practice rooms, but it's only for trainees and artists who are actually good at dancing. A few members of NCT had been granted them last year, as a gift to help them improve without being interrupted. And now Jisung's was on the door to Renjun's practice room.

He remembers how Jisung had said that he doesn't mind dancing with others, although he is uncomfortable when it's not other NCT members or people he doesn't know. And the way he'd smiled at Renjun afterwards.

As he smoothes down a crease in the paper, he can't help the smile on his face.

_Donghyuck_

He doesn't notice at first, that Donghyuck always seems to know when he's upset. That he always knows the right thing to say when Renjun doesn't think anyone could say anything. He always knows when he wants to be left alone, and when he just thinks he wants to be left alone.

And when he's lying in bed at seven in the evening, claiming he's got a headache. Donghyuck knows that isn't true.

He doesn't what the problem is, he's not psychic, but he knows what to do. He enters Renjun's room without asking, and ignores when the older asks him to go away because he knows that he doesn't really mean it. He turns all the lights off until they're in total darkness, and lies next to him.

On the top bunk, where there's barely enough room for one person, where Renjun knows that Donghyuck can't be comfortable. And they lie in silence.

Because Donghyuck watches people. He knows when his teasing goes too far, he knows what people really want, because he can read them all so well.

And he knows that when his presence is needed, even without any words being spoken.

When Renjun feels alone in the world, Donghyuck is always there. When he just can't work out that's going on with his feelings, when he feels particularly numb, Donghyuck is always there.

And even now, when Renjun doesn't know what the problem is more than just there's a problem, Donghyuck is there. Pressed up against his back, holding him tight so he knows that someone cares.

As he feels Donghyuck tighten his grip, despite all the conflicting emotions in his head, he can feel the younger's heartbeat through his clothes. He can't help the smile on his face.


	14. Vacuum Cleaner Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for CabbageHead who asked for '127 question the bruises on Haechans neck, bc it looks like hickeys and everyone is like wooooww our little child nooo, and like accuse Mark, and scolding him for it and but it turns out it’s just Jisung and Chenle who pranked Haechan while he was sleeping with a vacuum cleaner'

Donghyuck can't quite work out why everyone is looking at him strangely.

He enters the 127 dorm the normal way, throwing the doors open as loud as possible and announcing his presence through the megaphone in the hallway. There's no response, as usual, but he doesn't let it get him down. Instead, he launches himself into the kitchen, throwing himself in the line to get breakfast.

The clock above the counter ticks loudly as he passes, and he smiles, silently thanking Taeyong for sticking to a routine. It's 8:00 AM, and the food is always ready at that time.

And lets be real, the food is the only reason that he's here.

If anyone in NCT Dream could cook, and was willing to get up before 11:00 AM (cough cough Jaemin) then he'd happily stay there. But they couldn't, and even though he'd slept there overnight and probably should have stayed longer, he really doesn't fancy cereal and water; the height of luxury in the Dream dorms. No, he'd much rather sprint across the building just to get something actually edible.

Except, when he sits down, that's when he notices that he's getting a lot of strange looks.

All the older members are glancing at him, trying incredibly hard not to look suspicious which only makes them look even more so. He shrugs it off. The food in front of him will get cold if he spends all his time worrying about why others are looking at him weirdly.

It's probably just his natural attraction.

And sure enough, after a few silent minutes, the table descends back into its normal chaos. Doyoung's having a loud argument with Yuta about something small, Sicheng keeps trying to escape but Jungwoo and Taeyong pull him back down every time he stands up, Johnny's telling bad dad jokes at every chance he gets. A few members aren't there, so they can actually fit around the table for once. Donghyuck relishes the extra space, stretching out his legs as far as they can go, before he accidentally hits Ten (who for some reason is at the 127 dorms most of the, Donghyuck doesn't really know why and he's too scared to ask) and retreats as quickly as possible.

Then, whilst making eye contact with him, Ten asks, "Didn't Mark stay at the Dream dorms last night?"

"Maybe if you actually went there you'd know," Donghyuck shoots back, but it's only met with silence.

Slowly he realises that everyone is staring at him again, eyes wide. Taeyong has gone pale, all the colour drained from his face. "He did," he whispers, as his eyes slowly travel down to Donghyuck's neck.

Donghyuck frowns. So what if Mark was at the Dream dorms? He'd barely seen the older boy, as he'd shut himself in his room for most of the line, whilst Donghyuck had stayed up way into the early morning with Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun. Besides, they were both at the Dream dorms most of the time anyway. They did live there, after all.

But the stares he's getting suggest something different. Very carefully, he asks, "What?"

In a strange unison, they all point to the bathroom.

Donghyuck pushes his plate away and stands up, heading to the bathroom immediately. He doesn't exactly know what he's expecting, but as he stands in front of the mirror, he can definitely see the problem.

His hand flies up to his neck. On the tan skin there are several red love bites, blemishing the skin beneath his chin all the way down to just above his collarbone.

His face goes red immediately. 127's comments meant that they thought he and Mark- and oh my god he'd run past several Exo and Super Junior members on his way to the dorms, what would they think?

He's just pressing down on a particularly large mark when he realises a fatal flaw about the love bites.

Who did he get them from?

He hasn't been romantically involved with anyone for _years,_ and he doubts that any of the Dream members could have given them to him in his sleep. So who-

His eyes narrow. Just as he'd left the dorm, he'd noticed Jisung and Chenle having around the kitchen. They'd been giggling to themselves, which he hadn't found suspicious at the time, he'd been more focused on why they had a vacuum cleaner beside them, before shrugging it off and running across the SM building.

He hadn't really questioned why they'd both grinned at him as he left, putting it down to them finally deciding to be nice human beings for once.

Evidently not.

He slams his hand down on to the sink, turning his neck to reveal yet another 'love bite', this one even darker than the last. Now that he looks closer, he can definitely see that they're all the same size as the nozzle on the vacuum cleaner.

That did it.

He sprints out of the bathroom, slamming the light off and sprinting down the hallway, past the kitchen. There's a faint, "Where are you going?" From someone inside.

"To murder Jisung and Chenle!" He yells back, throwing himself out of the door before someone (cough cough Taeyong) tries to stop him.

He doesn't actually get to murder them, much to his disappointment. Kun had been visiting the dorms, and managed to protect them before Donghyuck could do any real damage.

He couldn't save the vacuum cleaner though, which ended up in multiple pieces shattered across the living room, broken beyond repair underneath Donghyuck's angry feet.


	15. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Skydancer8 who asked for 'Renjun suddenly gets homesick but Jaemin and Jeno are there to help'

He sits on the window ledge for about an hour. It could be more, it could be less, but Renjun didn't bring a watch and there's no one there to ask. No one saw him leave the dorms, no one saw him arrive here, and that's the way he wants it.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

He ignores the fact that he made more noise than normal when he was leaving, ignores the way he'd checked every room for people before he went to see if someone noticed. But even if he did, it hadn't mattered anyway. He'd managed to slip away, and that was his goal.

(But if he truly wanted to hide, why had he gone to his favourite place in the building?)

He's perched on the ledge of a huge window, that looks out onto the busy streets. It's about five floors up so the people all look like ants, and the seat is barely large enough to sit on, but thats the way he likes it. Pressed into the corner, watching as the world went by as normal. There was a strange sense of peace surrounding this area, a quiet that was rarely disturbed, as no one really went into this part of the building.

Ever since he discovered it, just after he debuted when he was looking for somewhere when he could be himself, where he could talk in mandarin as loud as he liked without being scolded, it's become a well known fact that he often jut sits there.

Watching, trying to get a sense of perspective, trying to break out of the emotions that cloud his mind.

One of his shoulders has gone numb from being pressed up against the glass for too long, and no matter how much his shifts, he can't seem to get comfortable. The heat from his skin has caused the window to fog up slightly, and the back of his t-shirt is slightly damp from the condensation. His sketchbook is in one hand, the other holding a pencil, poised to draw anything at a moments notice. But the paper is completely blank.

As blank as he feels empty.

Normally he comes here to get away from his emotions, but now he's here to try and find them.

And there's definitely a reason for that, no matter how much he doesn't want to admit it to himself.

The Dream dorm feels too quiet. They barely see Mark and Haechan, and when they do they're often too tired to talk or listen, both overworked and stretched as far as they can go. Jisung's managed to get time to visit his parents, away on some sort of family trip that seems to be taking years longer than the three days that was promised.

And Chenle is in China.

Something in Renjun's chest constricts as he thinks about. There's a unfamiliar jealousy that rises up inside him, making his head spin with wishes that it was him instead. _He_ wants to taste proper Chinese food again, _he_ wants to be surrounded by familiar streets that he grew up in, _he_ wants to sleep in his bed again, gazing up at the ceiling he used to see every night.

He wants to see his parents, his family, people he hasn't been able to see for what seems like years.

With a sick feeling, he realises that it doesn't just seem like years. It has been years.

It's been over a year since he last saw them.

Why did Chenle get to go home when he didn't?

He looks down, unclenching his fist that he didn't realise he'd been clenching in the first place. The edge of the paper had caught between his fingers, leaving a large crease down the middle on the paper. Effectively ruining it.

He sighs, pressing his pencil down on the sheet hard. The lead threatens to break with the force, but he doesn't stop pushing. He can only press down harder and harder, leaving a dent in the page. Sections of the lead begin to splinter off, but he still doesn't give in.

"Renjun?" Says a voice from behind him.

Slowly, he puts his sketchbook and pen down on the ledge, turning his body to see who's interrupted his 'drawing'.

Jeno and Jaemin.

"Move up," says Jaemin, nudging Renjun until he moves into the middle of the window, someone sitting by him on both sides. He realises he's sitting on his book, the sharp lead of the pencil digging into his back, so he goes to place it on the floor.

Jeno grabs his wrist, pulling it towards him instead. He frowns, tracing his finger over the dark mark in the centre of the page. His fingertip smudges the shards of lead, creating a grey line around the dent. "Did you do this?"

Renjun flushes. It hadn't seemed like anything at the time, but now there's a strange embarrassment creeping up his neck. He takes the sketchbook back, flipping it over so the page isn't visible and dropping it on the floor. He doesn't want to think about it any more.

"You know you can tell us anything, right?" Says Jaemin, burying his face in the smaller boy's shoulder, until his voice is muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt. His fingers intertwine around Renjun's own, squeezing his hand. On his other side, Jeno does the same, shuffling closer until Renjun is sandwiched between the two boys.

Renjun nods. His face is still red, but it isn't from embarrassment any more. The jealousy is still swirling in the bottom of his stomach, the sick feeling of homesickness still makes his head spin with how much he wants to be back in China, but it's becoming more and more bearable.

He fights a smile, and as soon as it creeps onto his face, Jeno grins back at him. Jaemin is practically lying on him now, wrapping his arms around the older in a strange sort of hug. Jeno reaches around Renjun to flick his head, and Jaemin's breath is warm against his chest when he mumbles out muffled protests.

The glass against his back doesn't seem as cold as it was five minutes ago. The mark in his sketchbook doesn't look as ugly either, more like the first of thousands of stars. His chest isn't as empty, either.

"We can go to a Chinese restaurant tonight, if you want," says Jeno, but he's so close to Renjun's ear that he has to whisper. The feeling of his breath sends shivers down the older's spine.

He nods.

It's nothing like home, most of the shops nothing but a cheap imitation. The food doesn't ever taste right, even at the most authentic restaurants.

But it doesn't particularly.

His mother always said that home isn't just a place. That it's also the people that you care about the most. And with Jeno and Jaemin by his side, anywhere could feel like home.


	16. Caramel Popcorn and Feather Duvets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love norenminhyuck so much
> 
> (after writing i realised i put absolutely no explanation for the situation, so the context is: 00 line is having a film night/sleepover in the dream dorms)

None of them are actually paying attention to the film currently playing. Jeno hasn't bothered even attempting to watch it from the start, so it wouldn't even make sense if he tried to watch it from now, with only half an hour left.

Throwing popcorn at Donghyuck from across the room is a much better use of his time.

It's even better because Donghyuck was the one who chose the film, and is the only one actually trying to watch it. But every five seconds he's hit with a bit of popcorn, and since Jeno has perfected the art of looking innocent and absorbed in something he's not interested in, Donghyuck has no idea who it is.

Jeno has to hide a laugh behind his hand as Donghyuck's head snaps round, eyes narrowing. His eyes scan the room for any sort of suspicious movement, and (Jeno tries not to burst out in laughter at the coincidence) eventually sees Jaemin who is just digging his hand into the bowl of popcorn.

His eyes widen, and he launches himself at the younger boy, tacking him off of the sofa. His foot hits the popcorn bowl and it overturns, spilling the contents over Renjun's lap. The older looks mildly offended at the mess, but it's quickly turned into amusement as he watches Donghyuck and Jaemin wrestle on the floor.

On-screen, someone gets murdered, but Jeno's eyes are glued on whatever's going on in front of him. Donghyuck is attempting to pin Jaemin to the floor, but Jaemin's doing why he does best: attaching himself to someone in some sort of limpet-hug and never letting go. It might have worked on someone else, but Donghyuck is just as clingy and ends up hugging Jaemin back.

They eventually stop struggling and just lie uselessly on the floor, amidst the mattresses and duvets they'd brought into the room. Jeno kicks a blanket over them, but they don't move. There's a few giggles from beneath it, and he makes eye contact with Renjun, who's still trying to brush popcorn crumbs off of his pyjama bottoms.

Renjun smirks, obviously catching onto what Jeno is planning, and raises three fingers into the air. Slowly, he puts them down.

Just as he gets to zero, they fling themselves off of their respective sofas, smashing Jaemin and Donghyuck. There's a loud squeal as Jeno lands on top of Lump 1, which he can now assume is Donghyuck. From the other side, a single hand emerges from the pile of pillows and blankets, feebly grasping at the carpet.

Renjun laughs clear and loud, a sound that makes all their hearts skip a beat.

They managed to stay there for an impressive few seconds, balanced on top of the squirming boys beneath the blanket. Then Renjun loses his balance, and is immediately dragged underneath. He shrieks as he's pulled under, but it's punctuated by loud laughs.

Jeno tried to stretch his body out, but he can't quite manage to hold all three of them down. Especially when they get suspiciously quiet, the laughter dying down into quiet giggles and whispers.

He can only grin, already predicting what's going to happen next.

There's silence.

The blanket has stopped wriggling.

And then there's movement, all three boys throwing it off and pulling Jeno towards them. There's a short wrestling match as Jeno tries to fight them off uselessly, and eventually they get too tangled up in the blankets to move properly.

The pile of duvets and pillows is incredibly soft underneath them, and though they'd planned to go back to their own beds after the film had finished, that doesn't look like it's going to happen. Jaemin's breathing has already evened out, and Renjun's eyes have been shut for a few minutes. Donghyuck yawns loudly, throwing his arms around Jeno, through its hard to be sure in the tangle of limbs that's been created.

Jeno can't quite keep his eyes open, as much as he wants to take a picture of the sleeping boys around him. He wants to keep this memory forever, pressed up against his heart, but he's too tired to move. His eyelids flutter shut, and the sound of the film finishing is distant, like it's being played from down a long tunnel. His mind slips into darkness, but the smile on his face doesn't fade.

_When Mark, Chenle and Jisung arrive back from their meal at the U dorms, they don't have the heart to wake up any of the sleeping boys. They only tiptoe past, cooing at the adorableness. Mark turns the television off as he passes, and closes the door behind him, leaving them undisturbed._


	17. Their First Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for KanonKazuki who asked for Markhyuck as Dream's Parents

Donghyuck doesn't want to open his eyes. He knows that as soon as he does, he's not going be able to get back to bed for at least another twenty hours. Maybe if he just stays incredibly still, the kids will just go back to bed. Maybe they'll just forget it's Christmas and not jump on him like they do every year.

There's a shriek from the corridor outside of Donghyuck and Mark's room, a crash as the door is slammed open, and a flying child catapults himself onto Donghyuck.

Just like every year.

He can hear Mark sigh beside him as they're both shaken awake by small excitable hands, and internally mourns the silence. Against his better judgement, he opens his eyes.

"It's Christmas!" Yells Chenle, right in Donghyuck's ear. His eyes are wide and pupils dilated, and for a second Donghyuck worries that his four-year old has managed to become a drug addict already, before noticing the tell-tale smudges of chocolate around his mouth.

"Yeah, it is." Mark mumbles from the other side of the bed, where he's being straddled by an excited looking Jisung. The three-year old's mouth is also suspiciously chocolate covered, and he's leaving sticky hand prints on Mark's face in his rush to wake him up.

"Did Santa come?" Asks Jisung, as Chenle drags Donghyuck out of bed (which Mark tries to hide a smile at, because he knows that Chenle isn't actually strong enough to move the older man on his own), "Was I good enough? Are there presents?"

Mark sits up, throwing Jisung off of him and catching him in his arms, ruffling his hair. "Why don't we go and see?" He says, as Jisung shrieks with laughter.

He puts Jisung down, letting him run after Chenle. From down the corridor, he can hear them telling him all about how they tried to wait up for Santa but fell asleep, but not before they _swore_ they heard the sound of bells on the roof.

The scrapes on Mark's knees from climbing onto the roof with one of Jeno's musical instruments at 11 at night don't hurt at all.

He pushes open the door to the triplet's room. The clock on the wall says it's 5 in the morning, but he doubts that even they could sleep through Chenle's shouting. That is, he thinks as he notices a chocolates hand-print on the door, if they hadn't been woken up by the Terrible Two ™ first.

He pauses outside of the door, trying to work out whether they are actually awake or not. It's incredibly quiet, and he half wants to leave them asleep if they are, not wanting to deal with three tired five-year olds later. There's silence, and he goes to leave, when there's a very quiet giggle.

A very quiet _suspicious_ giggle.

Mark only opens the door a bit, enough that the kids don't notice, and can't help but smile when he works out what's going on.

Inside the room, Jeno and Renjun are wide awake, mouths covered as they try and be as quiet as possible. They're attempting to drag a still-asleep Jaemin out of the room on a duvet, laughing as every time they pull it, he rolls back onto the carpet. Mark can only watch with a mixture of confusion and admiration. It's only when they decide that a reasonable way of getting Jaemin to stay in the blanket is to tie it to him that he decides to step in.

He pulls them apart, ignoring their pouting faces and tells them, "Don't you want to go downstairs to see if Santa's come?" They look at each other, and then sprint off in an attempt to be the first one to the living room. Mark isn't far behind, waking up Jaemin slowly and resting the tired boy on his shoulder, letting him wrap his small arms around him.

He doesn't stay tired for long. As soon as they get to the living room, Chenle's pulling on Mark's pyjama bottoms and Jaemin's asking to be put down, wriggling around to try and join Jeno and Renjun. Mark happily complies.

Jaemin immediately pulls Jisung towards him, helping him locate everyone's presents from Santa, whilst Renjun makes sure Chenle doesn't open his too early. They sit in a circle to open them, yelling with joy as the rainbow of paper is ripped away to uncover the toys that they asked for.

It's so easy to forget that it's their first Christmas as a family. That last year Jaemin has been in hospital, too ill to even open his eyes. That this is the first Christmas Jisung has ever had, possibly the first gifts he's ever had.

That it's the first of many Christmases to come.

Donghyuck smiles at him as he sits on the sofa next to him, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Mark can't help his heart skipping a beat as Donghyuck looks at him like that. He's beautiful, the stress of adopting five kids not changing his face at all. Mark loves every laughter line that appears by his eyes, loves the way his skin still glows in the light, loves the way he never stopped being affectionate.

He's beautiful.

He always has been, and he always will be.

In front of them, their kids play in a sea of brightly coloured wrapping paper. There are presents everywhere, glitter dusting their skin from endless Christmas cards, the lights of the tree reflecting in their huge eyes.


	18. White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Skydancer8 who asked for 'Jaemin's back starts to hurt so they take turns to pull him through the on a sledge' and Demi_dings who said 'can u please include Jaemin crying'
> 
> This wasn't supposed to be this sad, but I got halfway through and couldn't be bothered to change it (its also low-key just winter and not christmas maybe its just a bit of a disaster okay)
> 
> WHEN WILL SCHOOL BE OVER IM SO TIRED

Jaemin's stopped walking. They don't notice for a few paces, more focused on finding their way out of the snow than checking the number of people every few seconds, but they do eventually, and that's what matters.

He's still standing, but his body is totally still, as rigid as a plank. His face has drained of colour, almost as pale as the snow beneath his feet, and his arms hang limply by his sides. His forehead is scrunched up, and he's biting his lip so hard that the it seems like the only colour on him.

"Are you okay?" Asks Donghyuck, a concern in his eyes that is shared by them all. They all breathe out a sigh of relief when Jaemin nods and continues to walk, when his face relaxes a bit. And even though he's said he's fine, they don't stop glancing at him every so often, holding out a hand for him to hold to make sure he's still there.

Because there's a reason that he like warm clothes, a reason why he sleeps with the heater on right until the height of summer, why his bedsheets are more hot water bottles than blankets.

They walk in silence for a bit longer, the only sound their feet against the frozen ground. The sledge gets caught on a stone now and again, and Mark has to pull it hard, trying to free it until it slides forwards and hits him on the back of his legs. He ignores Chenle's whines that his legs are getting tired, letting Renjun remind him that he was the one who suggested this trip.

The adventure they'd all been craving, the child-like excitement of fresh snow clouding their better judgement and filling them with an energy that not even the bags beneath their eyes could deny. They'd slipped on the warmest clothes that they owned, leaving before any one older could tell them to come back. They'd dug out an ancient sledge from the back of a cupboard only Jeno knew existed, the result of too many games of hide and seek.

The sky had been a watered down shade of blue, like a dull shade of milky pottery or the powdery colour of chalk. Branches of trees had crossed it in thick black lines, stretching out bare fingers into the air. The sun had hung in the air, casting long shadows between the dead trees and lighting up the pale clouds of their breath.

They'd found the biggest hill that they could and slid down it until their cheeks weren't just red with cold. They'd run until their stomachs had started to hurt, until they'd realised that they hadn't brought any food with them, that the cold had drained the batteries of their phones, that they had no idea how to get back.

And the trail of footprints that they'd left wouldn't last long, as the sky split open above them and let millions of new snowflakes tumble down to the frozen earth.

Jisung's ears are bright red from the cold air, and his body won't stop shivering even as he desperately tries to force it to. Chenle's hands are beginning to turn a mottled shade of purple, the skin dry and rough. Mark's fingers are sore from where the coarse rope of the sledge rubs at them. Jeno's coat is no where near thick enough to protect him from the harsh wind that's beginning to pick up, and the water has long since seeped through Renjun's, his damp jumper clinging to his skin. Donghyuck's boots are filled with snow, melting down his feet until he can't feel his toes.

None of them stop, none of them complain. They trudge on forwards, battling through the swirling snowflakes that sting their eyes and drip down their backs.

Jaemin's stopped walking again.

But this time he's not even standing, sitting on the ground, clutching at the fresh snow with red fingers. His face is screwed up with pain, his ankle at an angle that doesn't seem right. His face isn't red at all, the paleness unsettling, and his hands are by his sides, desperately trying to take some of his weight off of his back.

Because they've seen this before, the first time he'd tried to dance after getting better, when he'd overestimated how much pain he could take. They'd seen it when he'd first collapsed, choking out frantic directions to get someone, anyone, between moans of pain.

"Are you okay?" Asks Donghyuck again, and this time he gets the answer he should have probably gotten the first time as well. A tiny shake of a head, the bitten lip splitting in the cold air.

They can't leave him there. He can't walk any further, and probably won't be able to for at least another hour. The snow around them seems to get slightly thicker at the prospect.

There's one solution that they can think of. After a few hushed words, a few encouragements and agreements, Jisung and Jeno lift Jaemin into the air, trying to ignore his little gasps as the agony in his back flares up again. Renjun sweeps the sledge clear of snow, drying the seat of the last few bits of ice with his sleeve.

They try and place Jaemin down gently, but there's nothing that can be gentle enough. They can only bite their own lips when the tears form in his eyes, when the sledge starts moving, jolting him and he cries out in pain. His face isn't quite as pale now, mottled with red as the tears fall down his cheeks with an increasing speed.

After Mark can't pull the sledge any more, after he finally gives in to the raw skin on his palm, Donghyuck takes over. They keep swopping, as soon as they start to slow down there's someone else to take their place. Their feet don't stop moving until they finally reach a street that they'd recognise anywhere. And it's there that they finally open the doors to worried faces, people that lock the sledge away but make sure they all warm up safely.

Hansol and Yuta, who know how to move Jaemin without hurting him more than he already is. Taeyong, who makes them all a hot chocolate with extra cream whilst telling them never to leave without telling them again, tears in his eyes. Kun, who confiscates their phones, not commenting on how none of them complain.

As the day ends, the sun finally sinks down behind the dark ground, leaving pinks and reds in the sky that bleed into each other like running inks. The first new leaves on the trees begin to appear, as the snow soaks into the ground and runs down the roads in huge streams.

And despite the drawbacks, despite the fact that they still don't have complete feeling in their fingers, they know that they'll do it all again next year.


	19. Wrapping Paper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't already obvious, I don't check these through before I post them, so I'm just going to apologise in advance

This wasn't how Donghyuck pictured Christmas Eve.

In his mind, it had seemed more like snuggling under a blanket in front of an open fire, some crappy Christmas film on, stuffing his face with mince pies and a cup of hot chocolate by his side.

There'd be presents under the Christmas tree, and the flashing lights would cast pretty colours onto the floor, bouncing off the shiny wrapping paper.

And in his _ideal_ world, there'd be a cute boyfriend by his side.

He hadn't pictured walking down a supermarket at 11:48 with his baby cousin dressed in a ghost costume.

"I want that!" said the ghost, eyes crinkling cutely from under the sheet. He attempted to stick his thumb in his mouth, obviously forgetting that he was dressed up and there was fabric in the way.

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes as what Jisung was pointing at.

'Super Water Gun 3000'

He didn't think so.

"Nope." He said, popping the p and putting the water gun back down, pushing Jisung and the trolley away from the toys aisle before he could complain.

Jisung's face crumpled (or, at least his eyes looked sad. His face was actually covered by the ghost costume) and he looked back with longing in his eyes, "Why not?"

"We didn't come here to buy toys, Sungie," Donghyuck said, "We came here to get wrapping paper because I'm super unorganised and didn't realise that I didn't have any until ten minutes ago."

"But the toys!" Jisung began to protest, bottom lip wobbling dangerously.

Donghyuck sighed. He really, _really_ didn't want to be pushing a tired three year old around a supermarket. He didn't even want to be looking after Jisung in the first place.

But no. Someone, for some unknown reason, had decided that despite all Donghyuck's failures, he was the best person to look after Jisung on Christmas Eve with no supervision.

Out of all the actually functioning members of his family, they'd chosen Donghyuck.

And so there they were, in an empty supermarket, with Jisung dressed as a ghost because Donghyuck couldn't leave him home alone and he'd refused to get up if he wasn't allowed to wear a ghost costume.

They hadn't even had a ghost costume.

Donghyuck had had to _make_ one.

Jisung's arm poked out from beneath the sheet and brushed longingly against the toy's shiny packaging. The scene looked completely ridiculous, almost like lovers being parted, Jisung's eyes full of sorrow and heartbreak.

Just the right time to break the news to him.

"Sungie, Uncle Donghyuck is broke. I'm not buying you anything."

Jisung's eyes grew impossibly large, welling up with salty tears. His hands managed to latch onto a box, and he pulled it close to him, cradling it like a child.

Donghyuck froze.

"Oh no.." he muttered, trying to push the trolley as far away from the toy aisle as possible, whilst _still_ looking for the wrapping paper, "Please don't cry. _Please_ don't cry."

Jisung ignored him. His face had gone bright red, and his mouth was open to let out a loud wail, tears streaming down his cheeks. His tiny fists clutched the box of the toy like it was the only thing keeping him alive, his fingers digging into the cardboard.

As if Donghyuck was going to let that happen. If the packaging was damaged, there was no way he could return the item to the shelf, and he really didn't have enough money to let that happen. Instead, he gritted his teeth, before attempting to pull the toddler's hands away.

"Are you okay, sir?"

Donghyuck froze. At the end of the aisle, a very tired looking shop worker was standing. His uniform was ruffled, and the creases in his shirt were almost as deep as the bags beneath his eyes. There was a pair of glasses slipping off his nose, and he had to push them back up every so often.

He was _very_ cute.

And he had just seen Donghyuck wrestling with a three year old over a toy.

He quickly dropped the box, letting Jisung pull it towards him again, the box almost as big as his tiny body. "I'm just looking for the wrapping paper," he said, trying to sound casual, leaning on the shopping trolley like that would make him seem less ridiculous.

The shop worker cheeks go slightly red, but he doesn't look surprised or confused at the younger's actions. He simply sighs, and gestures for Donghyuck to follow him, "This way."

Donghyuck grabs onto the handles or the trolley and pushes at the speed of light to catch up to (he squints at the name tag, trying to read the tiny writing without looking like he's staring at the worker) Mark.

Mark.

It's a pretty nice name, and obviously not Korean, sounding more western. It suits him, he decides. He looks like a Mark.

"Here we are," says Mark, waving his hand at the huge display of Christmas items, that includes an entire shelf of different types of wrapping paper, as well as a huge sign hanging from the ceiling that says 'wrapping paper' in sparkly red and green letters.

"Oh," says Donghyuck. He turns to face the display, but as he does, he catches Mark's eye. It's brief, only for a second, but both of their faces go a bright red. "Well, which one would you recommend, then."

Mark looks slightly startled by the question, as he face goes even redder. He frowns at the different colours for a second, before eventually pointing to one, "That one, I guess."

The wrapping paper is incredibly ugly. It's a combination of neon pink and acid green, colours that should never go together in those shades, _especially_ at Christmas. Amidst the cheery blue (blue, Donghyuck thinks, wondering how the person who designed this managed to keep their job) messages declaring 'Merry Christmas!' and 'Happy New Year!', are tiny zoo animals wearing Santa hats and holding up candy canes. Yep, not even winter animals. Zoo animals.

"Mark," Donghyuck says, not sure how to break this to the shop worker, "Can I call you Mark? Mark, that wrapping paper is possible the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

Mark visibly deflates, and Donghyuck feels his heart skip a beat. "Really?" He says, and points to one of the animals, "I thought that one looked like you?"

Donghyuck looks closer. The animal in question is a cartoon bear, with a huge grin and pink cheeks, waving its candy cane excitedly. It's actually pretty adorable.

He can feel his cheeks heat up. Surely Mark didn't mean it as a compliment, right? Surely there was something else he was missing. "Well, I think this one looks like you," he eventually says, when he can finally get the words out. He points to a tiny cartoon lion, that's trying hard to look fierce but only end up looking cute.

Mark laughs, and immediately overs his mouth with his hand. Donghyuck can't help but laugh as well, pulling the roll from the shelf and putting it in the trolley. Jisung looks at him suspiciously as he walks past, hands clutching the toy closer than ever.

They make it to the counters in what seems like no time at all, and Donghyuck quickly realises that there's no one else working with Mark. Which meant that he'd left the till unattended, just to come and help him.

He's so caught up in how sweet Mark's actions were, that it's only when Donghyuck digs the money out of his pocket that he realises that he's in a bit of a situation. He only has a fiver with him. It's easily enough to pay for the wrapping paper, but he hadn't quite managed to persuade Jisung to let the water gun go, the younger refusing to let go until Donghyuck promised to buy the toy for him.

The toy that cost £40.

Money that Donghyuck just didn't have.

He placed the note on the counter, letting Mark take it and frantically searching through the pockets of his jeans for any more money that he might have forgotten. There's no such luck. He was just about to give up, about to apologise and make Jisung put the toy back, when Mark handed him a sheet of paper with a few coins on.

"What?" He said automatically, taking it.

Mark went bright red, "I paid for the toy," he said, obviously trying not to stutter or embarrass himself, "I saw you were struggling, and I'm getting paid extra for working this late anyway so it doesn't really affect me anyway, especially with the employees discount-"

Donghyuck grinned. "Thanks," he said, putting the items into the trolley. "I'll see you again, Mark. Are you free on Thursday afternoon?"

Mark smiled, his face splitting in two. He nodded, "The cafe on the high street at 1?"

"See you there." Donghyuck didn't look back as he left the shop, and as soon as the doors closed behind him, he squealed incredibly loudly, causing Jisung to look at him strangely.

He didn't stop smiling until he gets home, the receipt still in his hand. Written right at the bottom, in neat black ink, was a phone number, the name Mark next to it.


	20. The Forever Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for E_A who asked for 'a mystery Christmas movie in sm' where 'an old trainee that died around Christmas and the dreamies found out about him when they get locked in the building'
> 
> this felt a bit rushed though, sorry
> 
> ALSO DUCKIE MY SUNSHINE MY FULL SUN I HOPE YOU GET BETTER SOON YOU DESERVE SO MUCH MORE
> 
> minor warning for a few mentions of death

The twinkling fairy lights do nothing to distract them from the fact that they're locked in. They look very pretty, and none of them can deny that, but if anything, the flashing seems to just mock them.

Mark knocks on the door again. His face is pressed up against the glass, his breath fogging it up, and his knocks go unheard. His knuckles are red, but he doesn't quite want to give up yet. He _really_ doesn't want to be trapped in the building, especially not with Dream.

"Just give up," Donghyuck without looking up from his phone. He's lying sprawled out on a pile of mats, Jaemin next to him, scrolling down some sort of social media account. Or at least, he was. Mark walks over to him in record time, grabbing his phone and ignoring Donghyuck's outraged cries.

The screen stays bright for about two seconds, just long enough for Mark to get his hopes up, before blacking out. A picture of an empty battery appears on the screen when he tries to turn it on again, declaring at the worst time possible that it needs to be charged. "Why didn't you charge your phone!" He cries, dropping the useless piece of technology to the floor.

Donghyuck throws himself off of the mats with surprising speed, catching his phone with one hand . He glares at Mark, after attempting to turn his phone on himself. "I did charge it!" He protests, "It was on twenty three percent before you took it!"

Mark couldn't care less, turning away from Donghyuck and Jaemin as they start bickering about whether it was on twenty three percent or twenty two. "Chenle? Jisung?" He tries, rubbing his temples.

Chenle shakes his head. "Sorry, I forgot mine today," he says.

Jisung simply shrugs, taking his hands out of his pockets that are very clearly empty. "I think Taeyong has mine," he says, unhelpfully, "It was probably confiscated for something."

Renjun and Jaemin both echo Jisung's excuse, and although Mark is mildly curious about what the three of them did to annoy Taeyong, he has more pressing things on his mind. "Jeno?"

Jeno looks up from where he's been watching Donghyuck mourning over his phone. He pulls it out of his pocket, turning it on easily. The screen lights up the room just enough to get everyone's attention. There's a collective intake of breath as Jeno opens the messaging app, taps out something into a text, goes to press send and-

"No signal," he says, holding his phone up as if that'll fix the problem. Mark's stomach sinks. He leaps over Jisung and grabs the phone from Jeno's hand, staring at the screen to confirm it. No signal. In big letters at the top of the screen. But that didn't make sense, did it? Donghyuck had been looking at social media only three minutes ago. Surely it couldn't have lost connection in such a short space of time.

He holds it up into the air, pressing it against the door as if that'll somehow make it reconnect. The little searching symbol goes around in circles endlessly, and he slumps down against the wood, burying his face in his hands.

The rest of them look at him with mild concern. "Is he okay?" Asks Chenle, frowning slightly, "He does know that Taeyong won't rest until he finds us, right?"

Jisung nods, not taking his eyes away from Mark, "I give it an hour tops."

Donghyuck whirls around, never one to back down from a bet. "An hour and a half," he says, "It's comeback season, the hair dye slows his counting skills down."

"But he's got Kun with him," adds Jeno, "He should be able to cover more ground that way. Forty-five minutes."

Jisung's just about to open his mouth and explain that Kun's got Yukhei to look after, when Renjun interrupts him. The older boy's face is pale, and something about him seems slightly off. The sound of his voice gets their attention and keeps it, sending shivers down their backs.

"Don't you think it's a bit weird," he says, swallowing nervously, "that we didn't hear anyone lock us in? And that the lights are off?"

They all look up to the huge lights above their heads. They usually illuminate the rooms based on motion sensors, so it wouldn't have mattered that they weren't supposed to be locked in. But they were off, and the only way that they could still see each other were the fairy lights hanging by the door, the lights on the Christmas tree in the corner, and the faint light from Jeno's phone screen.

"I guess," says Mark, finally handing Jeno his phone back. He sits down by Renjun, and a circle quickly forms as the rest of them also get closer.

"It could just be a fault in the wires," Jaemin says, ever the critic. But they can't miss the way he shuffles further into the circle, pressing his knees against Jeno's and Donghyuck's legs.

Renjun frowns, "Or it's a ghost."

His suggestion is met with a chorus of groans from the younger members. They've just about had enough with Renjun's ghost theories, especially after the whole 'bottle on the shelf' incident, when he'd ranted to anyone within a ten-foot radius about possible supernatural explanation for two whole days.

"I'm serious!" He says, shoving Chenle in the shoulder when the younger rolls his eyes, "Ghosts can interfere with electronic devices, which would explain why there's no service. And it could lock us in, if it was a poltergeist. Maybe it doesn't want us to be found."

There's an eerie silence as they take in the Chinese boy's words. Something about the atmosphere seems unnatural, something about it preventing them from denying his claims. The air seems cold somehow, despite the fact that all the heaters are still on. The tree lights blink slowly behind them, casting multicoloured shadows onto their faces.

"But who died?" Asks Jisung finally, breaking the quiet with his question, "I mean, to have a ghost someone's got to die. But no ones died here."

Mark suddenly stiffens. All eyes in the room are suddenly on him as his face goes pale, almost ashen grey.

Donghyuck whispers, "Mark?"

"Just before we joined," says the older, his voice low and heavy, "There was a trainee that has a heart attack. In one of the practice rooms, I think. We weren't supposed to know, because they thought it might scare us, but I overheard some of the EXO members talking about it."

He pauses to take a breath, closing his eyes. When he opens them up again, his pupils are small and his hands are shaking, "Apparently that was the reason they redesigned this entire area. None of the lights would turn on, and the mirrors didn't reflect anything. The whole thing happened on Christmas Day. I remember because no one found the body until the next day, and I though it was really sad."

"See!" Says Renjun, but his voice is quiet and shaky, "I told you there was a ghost."

No one wants to challenge him. There's something about the room that seems slightly off, draining their confidence. Somehow, the idea of a ghost doesn't seem ridiculous at all.

"What practice room was it?" Asks Jeno.

Mark frowns, and he glances towards the door, almost as if he expects to see something there. "I'm not sure. Why?"

"Because these rooms used to be the old practice rooms, didn't they? I always thought it was weird, because some of the rooms still have the old mirrors in, and not all the floors were replaced."

Before Mark can reply, there's a loud crash in the hallway outside. The door seems to shake on its hinges, rattling the glass so hard that they half expect to see tiny cracks there.

They sit like that for a bit longer, no one wanting to look away from the door. There's no movement outside, no movement inside, and the lights still haven't come on. They're sitting even closer now, huddled together against the strange cold and prickling sense of being watched.

But despite the cold, despite the eyes that seem to watch them, the fairy lights stop any sense of fear that could be there. In its place is a calm that leaves their phones abandoned on the floor, any worries forgotten. The quiet hangs heavy in the room, the crash from before seeming insignificant, as their eyelids close seemingly by themselves.

——

It's a few hours later when Taeyong eventually finds them, after battling for the key to the floor where he'd though they'd be. Sure enough, he easily pushed the door to the first room open.

In the back of his mind, he thinks it's strange that the lights don't come one, unlike the ones in every other room. That although the rest of the fairy lights are turned off at the mains supply, the ones in this room still flash delicately. That everything seems so much quieter in the room, slightly muffled from the outside world, the roar of the cars passing on the road outside the window becoming little more than an indistinct him.

And how the boys, still sleeping, are covered by a thick blanket that he's never seen before.


	21. The Life of a Poor College Student at Christmas

The lights blink on the trees that surround him. Each bulb is a different shade, creating a rainbow of colours that glitter and sparkle in the dim lights.

Renjun wishes they were all black.

Don't get him wrong, he loves Christmas as much as the next guy (unless the next guy is Chenle, in which case he'll never love it that much), but staring at neon lights for more than one hour isn't the most enjoyable.

And he's _still_ on minimum wage.

Donghyuck stands next to him, sipping a Starbucks coffee and looking very unimpressed. "Cheer up, Junnie," he says, "Only a few more hours and we can go home."

Maybe the advice would be more convincing if Donghyuck actually looked happy himself.

Renjun just snorts, itching his ear. "They has to make the hats out of the most uncomfortable material ever," he complains.

The other boy sighs, and swings himself up onto the side of Santa's sleigh. He opens his mouth to reply, but a new voice interrupts him.

"It's almost as if they know we're broke students and wanted us to suffer." 

Renjun and Donghyuck both turn to face Jeno, who's making his way out of the grotto. His face is red from the lack of ventilation in the 'cave', and his eyes are watering.

"What are you doing here?" Says Donghyuck, swinging his legs and taking another sip of his coffee. He manages to look intimidating, despite the fact that _none_ of them are supposed to be hiding behind the grotto, all trying to skip their respective roles.

Jeno flushes, looking a tiny bit guilty, "Some kid decided to have a tantrum because Santa only gave him one gift."

"And you left Jisung, Chenle and Jaemin to attempt to calm the angry mother," finishes Renjun.

It's not surprising.

For a mall Santa booth where the only present is discount stationary, it's ridiculously overpriced. Meaning that the only kids that ever visit are spoilt.

And with spoilt kids comes parents who think that their little angel could do nothing wrong, even as the said child attacked 'Santa' with all the fury of a hell-demon.

"Actually, it's just Jaemin and Jisung. Chenle disappeared half an hour ago."

Yet again, they all turn to face the newcomer. Mark stands by a huge Christmas tree, holding a box of doughnuts out as an offering.

Donghyuck jumps off of sleigh with surprising speed, quickly grabbing the nicest two doughnuts and scrambling back up to his perch.

Renjun surveys the choices left, sighing. Every single one is burnt or squashed, the scorched edges leaving black marks on the bottom of the box. After careful scrutiny, he finally takes the one that looks the least like it's been dropped in a fire.

"Are they from Taeyong?" Asks Jeno, poking an especially sad looking chocolate covered one. It deflates depressingly.

Mark raises an eyebrow, "No, I just bought the inedible ones for no reason. Of course they're from Taeyong, he's the only worker there that actually takes pity on us."

Jeno scrapes the deflated one off of the tray and into his palm, looking at it sadly. "Maybe one day we'll be able to afford food that's actually edible," he says forlornly.

Donghyuck's foot connects with the back of his head, but before he can speak the younger shrugs. "You should be glad he gives us food at all," he says, mouth full of doughnut, "I don't think we'd be able to survive more than three minutes here without sugar."

"Sugar?" Says another voice. Chenle peeks his head around Mark, looking at the food with wonder in his eyes.

Renjun can see Mark's brain putting two and two together, realising what would happen with Chenle and sugar just as the younger reaches to take a doughnut.

He attempts to pull the tray away, but he's too late.

Chenle scoops up a chocolate doughnut with way too much cream on it and shovels it into his mouth in one go. His eyes dilate as the sugar enters his bloodstream. There's a thick tension in room as everyone simultaneously remembers the last time Chenle had a sugar high.

(Lets just say that there used to be eight elves instead of seven, and they're all banned from Claire's accessories for life)

There's silence.

Everyone is leaning away from the younger, almost as if he was an unexploded bomb. His legs begin to shake, and his face splits into a huge grin that is honestly terrifying. His mouth opens, and he begins to speak.

"Oh yeah! Jeno, Jungwoo said that he saw you in the pet shop again! I thought you were banned though?"

Four heads turn to face Jeno.

He gulps.

"Again?" Exclaims Donghyuck, doughnuts forgotten, "And in elf costume? Are you insane?"

Jeno raises his hand in protest. "In my defence," he says, "They didn't recognise me, so it's not actually that bad."

Mark frowns, "When did he get banned?" He asks Renjun, "I thought they loved him there?"

"That was before he tried to steal five cats last Friday," replies the Chinese male.

"They just looked so sad!" Whines Jeno, "They were all looking at me with huge eyes! How was I supposed to ignore them?"

There's a scream from behind them, and Renjun pokes his head around the corner just in time to see a woman in her mid-forties screaming at Jaemin as he apologised profusely.

Her child has its thumb stuck in its mouth and is currently attempting to pull all the lights off of the Grotto. It's grubby fingers are already full of presents, but it seems too intent on wrecking the set to notice.

As it turns its head, it catches sight of Renjun. They make eye contact, just as the child manages to tug the lights free. They crash to the ground, and it smiles as Renjun, as if it _knows_ that he'll have to tidy it up later.

Renjun sticks his middle finger up at it.

The smile drops off its face, but before it can make a fuss, it's being dragged away by the red-faced mother.

Renjun basks in the glory of defeating the child for three beautiful seconds, before he realises that Jaemin is staring him down and promptly attempts to hide behind the Christmas tree.

It doesn't work.

Before he can even move, Jaemin's beside him with narrowed eyes. "Did I see just you swear at a five year old?"

Renjun opens his mouth to try and deny it, even though he knows the younger saw everything, but Jaemin gets there first.

"Never mind," he says, "I was almost about to do it myself." He takes a step forward, and suddenly sees everyone else. His mouth falls open. "So this is where you've been hiding!"

He points a finger at Donghyuck, who suddenly looks very guilty, "You're supposed to be Santa! But because you've been hiding, Jisung's being Santa for the fifth day in a row!"

"I'm too good-looking to be Santa," Donghyuck says in an attempt to calm Jaemin down.

"Jisung is _eighteen_! And he's allergic to the wig and beard!"

"That's not my problem."

Jaemin sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose and obviously deciding it's a lost cause. Instead of trying to persuade Donghyuck to do the right thing, he climbs into the sleigh beside him and takes his Starbucks.

"That's mine!" Donghyuck protests.

Jaemin only drinks the coffee with more force, making as much noise as possible.

"Uh, guys." A new voice says.

Yet again, they all turn to face the newcomer- Jisung standing awkwardly, fake white beard in hand and bright red rash across his cheeks and mouth.

"I think the reaction is getting worse." He says, scratching at his cheekbone.

Jaemin sets the empty coffee cup down, looking at Jisung worriedly, "Do you think we'll have to go to the hospital?"

They all turn to look at Mark, the only one of them able to drive.

He shrugs uselessly. "Maybe if we leave it it'll go away?" He suggests.

If it was possible, Jisung looks even more awkward. "That's what we thought originally," he says, "But then I had to put it on again because a woman threatened to sue us if Santa didn't have a beard and now it's getting sort of hard to breathe so I thought I should probably say something."

There's complete quiet.

Everyone looks Jisung in silence, taking in what he's just said.

"Yeah, we're definitely going to the hospital," says Renjun, grabbing Jisung's hand and pulling him towards the exit.

"Dressed as elves and Santa?" Jeno asks in disbelief, from where he's holding Chenle down.

Donghyuck climbs down from the sleigh, grabbing the empty cup and throwing it into a bin. "Why not? It's not the worst thing we've done," he says, "And we get to skip work."

The rest of them exchange glances, before following him out, already arguing about who gets to sit where in Mark's tiny car.


	22. Homesick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for ZainabFarooqui who asked for 'Mark is always homesick for Canada on Christmas and how the dreamies help him deal with it'
> 
> i have no idea what christmas is like in canada i apologise in advance

It's a well known fact that the snow makes Mark homesick. Ever since their trainee days, he'd always become quieter when the city was dusted in white, his normal laughter dulling down to silence. He'd sit in the dorm for what seemed like hours on end, not speaking, but staring at a picture of his family. The calls he'd take would become longer and longer, and his smile become hidden by dark marks beneath his eyes.

It was even worse when he'd just joined the company, the longing to return so bad that he wouldn't be able to move off of the sofa, curled up in a tiny ball. The memory of home was still fresh in his mind, and if he tried hard enough, he could still imagine that he was there.

It's much easier now, when he hasn't been able to return for months.

So instead of curling up, instead of hiding himself away, he simply sits in plain sight. They can see his pain in his eyes, how his smile doesn't quite reach as far as it normally would, how he lingers by the window for just a second too long. They know he lies awake at night, not able to fall asleep. He'll never ask them for help, shouldering it all by himself until he crumbles beneath the mountain he's trying to carry alone.

Mark isn't the only foreign member in NCT, but he's the one that misses his home the most.

And so when the Christmas plane trips are cancelled, all attention goes to Mark. It's some excuse about timing, about money and other reasons that really don't make any sense other than they just don't care. The promised visits are shattered in just a few words, the signing of a sheet that their manager didn't even look at twice. They just want to make them work harder, as if they're just robots with no rights, that don't have families or hope or dreams.

The managers leave before the message can sink in, the words spinning through their heads without making any sense. It's predictable, just the kind of thing the company would do, but it still comes as a shock.

Then Mark sits down.

His eyes are blank, empty of any emotion. In the window behind him, the snow begins to fall harder than ever, completely burying the streets outside. Packed bags lie near his legs, ready for the plane ride that's never going to happen, because he was lied to.

He doesn't sit for long, not wanting to face the other members when there are already tears beginning to form in his eyes. He has to be strong, can't show such weakness when they all look up to him. So he pulls away from their concerned looks, shutting himself in his room.

He doesn't know what he expects, doesn't know what he wants them to do. He just wants to see his parents. There's an emptiness inside him that just wants to be left alone, to have some time to think. He knows they'll be affected as well, that he wouldn't take it so personally when it's not just his flight that was cancelled, when he knows that they'll miss their families as well and he should just stop being so selfish.

On the other side of the door, a laptop lies open.

The most recent searches all contain the words 'Canada' and 'Christmas', various forms of working out what Christmas is like there, different traditions and food. It's discarded on the floor, as the owners make their way to the shops that are still open, battling their way through the blizzard that rattles the buildings and slows down the traffic until everyone sane is safe inside.

Their shopping trolley is quickly filled, similar searches made on more portable devices and ticked off a list. Tiny items from huge supermarkets where the western influence overrides the traditional Korean one. Jars of sauces they've never heard of, a huge turkey that they'll never be able to cook, a tiny plastic Christmas tree, all line the sides of their baskets

They call up the company after emptying their pockets of all the money they have, when the price is slightly above what they can afford, and they call up Taeyong when the company says no.

They look in every single shop that's open for the last few items on the list, splitting up to cover more distance. And even then, when they still can't find one or two specific things, they return with colouring pencils and thick paper and shade in every detail perfectly until it's almost as good as the real thing.

The older members appear at some point, when the smell of cooking food fills the corridor and they can't resist the urge to help. The burned hands are soothed with ice and burned food soothed with new layers of spices and flavouring. Bodies and steam fill the kitchen, endless helpful hands all focused on one task. Every door is open, except one.

Mark eventually gets up, his headphones slipping off his head and altering him to the sounds in the kitchen. His eyes are still puffy when he leaves, rubbing the last traces of his tears away as the people around him come grinding to a halt.

The turkey isn't cooked yet, still pink inside, but the vegetables are all soggy and soft from too long in the steamed. The gravy has long gone cold, and the paper drawings keep falling over, unable to stand up on their own. The tree is bent out of shape, dropping plastic leaves onto the floor. Empty crackers line the floor, some crushed beneath unknowing feet, and tiny toys spill of the open ends

Mark doesn't know what to say.

His mind still yearns for his mother's cooking, still wishes that he was there, still wants to see his family more than anything, and nothing could change that. But as the meal is slowly made edible, as they all cram into the living room with flimsy paper hats perched on their heads, as his smile begins to pick up again despite the snow slowly trapping them in the building, he thinks that maybe it's not so different.


	23. Mistletoe White Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Silvernight134 who asked for 'highschool/uni au (like all 18 of them living in a massive house kinda thing) and Jisung and Chenle have been dating for like a year or so and no one knows but the others are trying to "get them together" and Jisung and Chenle just find it so funny that they go along with it'
> 
> and BabyChenle who asked for a Chenle-centric chapter
> 
> I sort of had to change the prompt a bit to fit what I'd be able to write in one day, but hopefully it's still okay!

There's a very suspicious bit of mistletoe hanging above their door. The actual plant itself isn't suspicious, it's just a normal plant, but Chenle has literally just come back from getting a glass of water so he _knows_ that it wasn't there five minutes ago.

"Oh would you look at that," says Jaemin, who _just so happens_ to be walking past, "Mistletoe!"

Jisung glares at him. From where he's stood underneath the doorway, he can quite obviously see that there's mistletoe. He can also quite obviously see the chair that Donghyuck's pulling down the corridor, that was used to stick the mistletoe up there. Jaemin is literally holding the sellotape.

"Uh," says Jaemin, when neither Jisung or Chenle move, "You're supposed to kiss,"

Chenle's glass of water is still in his hand, the hear from his hand beginning to fog the glass up. Jisung is still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, yawning every five seconds. They're both still wearing pyjamas, fresh out of bed. He's got to appreciate Jaemin and Donghyuck's attempt to get them to kiss, but did they _really_ have to do it this early in the morning?

But he decides to humour them. They don't know that he and Jisung have been in a relationship for the last year, roughly three months before everyone else decided to ship them. They don't know, because Jisung pointed out that Taeyong would have a heart attack if he knew, and they need Taeyong to cook for them.

So it was decided that they'd keep it a secret, hiding kisses behind locked doors and holding hands beneath the table when no one else was looking. They kept it a secret, whispering messages to each other when the dorms were empty.

Not for much longer though, with how insistent the other members of the household are becoming.

Jaemin looks at the mistletoe expectantly. "Go on," he says, when five minutes have passed and still neither of them have moved. His eyes are bright with the artificial energy of coffee, and his patience probably isn't at its best. If they don't do something soon, Chenle doesn't doubt that he'd slam their heads together.

So he blushes (not hard when he's standing so close to Jisung) and pushed past the younger boy into their room. He puts the glass down, and watches as Jisung stutters out excuses about needing the toilet before disappearing into the bathroom.

The door is left slightly open, and as he takes a sip from the water, he has to hide a smile as Donghyuck strikes another tally on the 'attempts to get chensung together' board they think he doesn't know about.

-

He promptly forgets about the incident, blaming it on the fact his head was still full of sleep and that he wasn't actually awake. So it actually comes as a surprise when he sits down for breakfast and is immediately pushed out of his seat.

"Sorry, that's, uh, that Renjun's chair," says Jeno as Chenle hits the floor, his hands coming out to protect him.

Chenle stands up, brushing the dust off of his jeans and looking at the very much empty chair in front of him. "But Renjun's not even here," he says, "How is that his chair?"

Jeno shakes his head, steering Chenle away, "Nope, that's definitely his chair. He's just gone to the, uh, to the loo. He was here a minute ago and that's where he was sitting."

Chenle raises an eyebrow, not believing that in the slightest since he saw that Renjun was still asleep when he walked down the corridor a second ago. But he can't be bothered to question Jeno's motives, too curious to know what the older is doing to interrupt him. "Why don't you sit here?" Suggests Jeno, practically forcing him into a seat on the other side of the table, "This is a much nicer seat!"

Chenle looks down. It is actually a nice seat, the legs not even broken that much. He's just about to shrug off Jeno's behaviour when he sees who's sitting opposite him.

Ah.

So this is what it's about.

Opposite him, obliviously eating a bowl of cereal, is Jisung. Chenle looks up at the ceiling, and sure enough, there's a sprig of mistletoe that looks suspiciously familiar stuck there. He looks back down at Jisung, who is still eating his cereal.

And watching them expectantly is Jeno and Mark. "Oh looks," says Mark, "Mistletoe. I wonder how that got there?"

Chenle resists the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm not hungry anymore," he says, pulling away from the table and leaving the room before anyone can come after him. Jisung looks up as he leaves, and when he returns to their room, his pockets are full of packets of food. He's always been able to tell when Chenle is lying.

-

It's that same day that they give up trying to hide it anymore.

After the incident with the mistletoe in the toilet, the plants that suddenly started to appear everywhere they went, hanging over their beds, over their food, over every single doorway in the house. Empty rolls of sellotape could be found in every corner of every room, and Chenle knew that they'd had to get a new board because the old one was full up.

He'd see them darting from room to room with whispered giggles and exasperated groans when they managed to get out of kissing yet again. Even the older members of the household were beginning to take part, places that they'd once taken for granted becoming just as dangerous.

There was no escape, and Chenle was beginning to become slightly concerned for their mental health. So he told Jisung his plan, and the next time they were caught under the mistletoe together they couldn't help but smile at what was to come.

"Oh, look," said Renjun in a monotone voice, standing at the bottom of the stairs, "Mistletoe."

The plant in question is dangling from a piece of string, the sellotape having run out about an hour ago. Donghyuck is holding the end, leaning dangerously over the banister to get it just above their heads. There are people at either end of the stairs, effectively blocking any path of escape they could have taken.

Not that it mattered.

"You have to know what that means by now," mutters Jaemin, "I'm not explaining it agai-"

Jisung doesn't wait for him to finish his sentence, pressing his lips to Chenle's without a second thought. From the corner of his eye, he can see Donghyuck dropping the mistletoe in surprise, and Mark suddenly going very pale. He can't help but smile into the kiss, eventually pulling away and grinning at the younger boy, before looking around.

All that's left of Jaemin is a hand clutching the banister, from where he's fallen over in shock. Donghyuck's hand hasn't closed yet, and Jeno looks completely frozen, the mistletoe resting on his head from where it had been dropped. Mark's managed to crumple the piece of paper he was holding, his skin almost as pale as it. Renjun's eyes are incredibly wide, huge saucers in his face.

"Oh," says Chenle, savouring the moment, "Jisung and I have been dating for the last year. Did you not know?"


	24. The Universe and His Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for dreamies who asked for 'a markren where renjun confesses his feelings of being scared of what's going forward & it'd be nice if it ended on a positive note'
> 
> thats the only context there is because what I wrote ended up being really vague

For once, it's just them. In the middle of the quietest streets that they've ever seen, the snow muffling everything that isn't them, isn't right there with them. The shops are still open, but not for long. They bustle with last minute shoppers, the lights bright against the dark sky and pale snow. Christmas lights hang from building to building, casting a warm glow over the road.

The roofs are heavy with snow, tree branches bending in half with the weight. The wind blows the lightest of the snowflakes around their feet, pulling at their hair until they can't open their eyes for any longer. It stings their faces and scratches the glass of the shop windows. Tiny crystals of glass masquerading as snow.

A few people push past them, too absorbed in their conversations, too interested in their phones to notice anything else. Like tiny galaxies, too focused on anything else, too preoccupied with their own planets to notice the two boys in the middle of the street.

Renjun's never been a galaxy.

He's too small, more of an insignificant star than anything bright or interesting. He's just there to fade into the background, to disappear in a single breath, collapsing in on himself without a second thought. A tiny speck compared to the galaxies of those around him, forever lost in his own insignificance.

Mark is more than a galaxy.

He's the endless expanse of the universe, filled with limitless potential that runs through his veins. He's everything at once, something untouchable and perfect, something that could never be stopped. Something that a tiny star could only ever dream of, watching from afar as the universe filled with an unimaginable life.

As the universe left the star behind.

Mark eyes are big, and Renjun can tell he's confused. They're a step too far apart, not close enough to speak or interact in any way except watch. Cheeks red from the icy wind, fingers blue from the snow that dusts the ground beneath them.

As every second passes, and Renjun just gets further away. Mark can only reach out in confusion, just missing the younger boy's arm, just brushing the fabric of his coat.

The universe is changing.

"I didn't know," says Mark, and his lips are redder than anything Renjun has ever seen, his eyes impossibly bright, his voice as soft as ever, "Why didn't you say anything?"

The snow falls heavier, pouring from the heavens. It crunches under Renjun's trainers, the cold seeping through the soles of his shoes until his feet are as blue as he feels.

"I can't be the one to hold you back,"

Mark's face creases as he hears the words, and he reaches out again. This time, his fingers hook onto Renjun's wrist and they're pulled together. Their skin is cold, the snowflakes settling staying perfectly formed. They catch on Mark's eyelashes, dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose until Renjun's heart is skipping every other beat.

"I won't be gone forever," says Mark, and his voice is so much quieter now, "You've got to know that, Junnie. I would never leave you. Never." His words are catching in his throat, choking out every syllable like it's a bitter poison that he can't bear to swallow.

"Exactly," says Renjun, and he tries to pull away, tries to leave, "Its not forever. I'll still see you. I can keep up with the changes, don't worry about me." There are tears running down his cheeks that he can't stop, can't control. He can't even feel sad, filled up with nothing more than a numb emptiness that haunts him every waking hour.

Mark doesn't let him go, and Renjun knows that he never will. His finger brushes over the younger's cheek, wiping away a single tear. "You don't have to lie to me."

He pulls him into an embrace, pressing their chests together until they can feel each other's hearts beating. The wind swirls around them, pushing them closer, biting at every bit of exposed skin, blowing at every tear that drips down their faces.

There's something unspoken, something to add to the tally of unspeakable moments that creeps up Renjun's arm. Something to add to the list of moments he's never confirmed, another whisper between the two of them that never existed. And yet it doesn't need confirmation, it doesn't need to be voiced.

It simply is, and that's enough.

"It'll be okay," says Mark, and he's talking to himself as Renjun. They can both tell he isn't lying, no matter what their hearts tell them, because it's a change they both knew was coming for a long time. One decided right from the beginning, that had been worn away over time right until now.

It's a change they'll both survive.

"It'll be okay," says Mark, and Renjun can only nod in silence. His words are bitter, but never untrue. They'll be okay.

It'll be okay.


	25. 7DREAM

Maybe it won't always be seven.

But they'll remember what it is for now, in the future, when it hasn't been seven for years. Whether it's six, or five, or two, or fifteen or fifty eight or one million, they'll remember.

They'll remember the last Christmas they spent together.

And really, it's a bit stupid to call it the last Christmas. Even though everything will change in the new year, every though everything will be different, it isn't the last Christmas. It will never actually be the last Christmas, no matter how much it feels like it.

Next year, they'll have new faces to spend it with, personalities that they couldn't even imagine living without. New dynamics set in motion, new songs bursting through the radio with their name on, new memories. There'll be one less familiar face, but he'll be close enough that they'll never truly forget he was there.

Even though it's inevitable that they do.

There's too many memories to remember everything, too many experiences that take up too much room in their minds. Maybe they'll even remember next Christmas as more special, the last few moments before the original becomes even smaller, as more goodbyes approach.

But this will always be the last few moments as seven.

Surrounded by paper in every colour imaginable, the clocks bright against there eyes with number way too low. The branches of the tree bend double with every single decoration they've ever had piled on, the lights flickering dangerously, tinsel draped off the sides. Ribbons scatter the floor with discarded boxes, presents from family they haven't been able to see for months and friends they haven't been able to see for years.

There are piles of ripped open Christmas cards from names they barely recognise, and small gifts from people in the company that they do. Big groups like EXO and SHINee all leaving their mark in the room, a room they've never seen for people they've barely spoken too. A common courtesy that is appreciated.

The plans to visit other dorms later, to call parents and people that they wish could be there. The television flickering on when every box is empty, every relationship that's managed to stay strong exhausted.

Presents they bought for each other, from the money they've saved up. Tiny items that mean more than the fans could ever know, that sometimes even the other members could know.

And Mark.

They don't mention when he'll leave, but his bags are already stacked by the door. They're small, just what he'd leave at the Dream dorms when he was promoting elsewhere, items he wouldn't miss. All wrapped neatly into cardboard boxes, ready to be shipped to the 127 rooms.

Wandering eyes catch the boxes every so often. The sight catches at the mood, dampening every happy moment they've ever had with the knowledge it's all about to end.

And end they've always know was coming, but never realised would come so soon.

But there's something else. Every single moment is so precious that it feels like diamonds slipping through their fingers. And that only makes it worth more. Ever memory is worth more than gold, more than anything in the world.

And when Mark leaves, he won't take those memories with him. It'll always be in their minds, forever there, and it doesn't matter if they forget.

Because here, in this moment, there's something that can't be replicated. Something irreplaceable, with a bitter acceptance of change. That they'll still be here, forever, and that the changes are okay.

No matter what.

Maybe it will always be seven.


	26. The End

This isn't a chapter whoops sorry if you got your hopes up

I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who left prompts or kudos or simply just read this trash pile

(I was actually surprised that I managed to find the dedication, time and motivation to write a short drabble or oneshot each day)

I'm VERY GRATEFUL TO E V E R Y O N E WHO READ THIS  
Seriously, I didn't even think this would get past 4 reads, let alone 4000!

E  
V  
E  
R  
Y  
O  
N  
E

(even you <3)

If you left kudos, thank you so much!

And if you commented, I just want to say that when I checked my laptop in the morning every day and saw all the kind comments left, it made my day

AND all the prompts were absolutely top quality i'm so sad i din't get a chance to write them all omg

Thank you!!


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